Harry by Proxy
by The Smiling Crow
Summary: Harry Potter's uncle goes too far and a broken, bleeding Harry is left in his cupboard. However, he is rescued and taken in by our favorite, faceless entity in a suit; Slenderman. How will Hogwarts deal with a corrupted Harry Potter? Harry Potter x Creepypastas. Dark-ish!Harry. Teen for general Creepypasta goodness and language. Manipulative Dumbledore and Weasley Bashing.
1. The Slenderman Cometh

**This story is high Teen for blood and gore. No graphic sexual themes, but there may be graphic violence from time to time. There may be warnings every now and then for Mature themes in certain chapters.**

**Thank you, I hope you enjoy the story.**

**Sincerely,**

**The Smiling Crow**

* * *

Harry Potter continued running, ignoring the tears streaming down his face and the burning in his calves. He had to get away.

No one was awake at that time, not many would be at 2 AM, so the streets were open, desolate, and lonely. The dead leaves rattled as a small wind pushed them around on the ground. He didn't like autumn. It meant that his cupboard got very cold, very quickly.

He looked behind him and didn't see the hulking figure of Uncle Vernon chasing him or, knowing the man's cardiac fitness, the family car zooming towards him, so he cautiously slowed down and caught his breath. His cousin Dudley's Harry Hunting kept the 7-year-old in shape, but he'd been running for the better part of 20 minutes.

Tears kept falling as he remembered how it all came to this.

* * *

He hadn't meant to.

Honestly.

One moment the mean substitute teacher's hair was its usual, dull grayish-white, the next it was bright blue. Though, the fact that it happened when he was giving Harry an angry lecture on his missing homework (which Dudley stole) meant all fingers pointed to Harry. Thankfully, the school principal could not find any evidence that would point to Harry directly, despite the insistence of Mr. Mulligan.

The principal had to repeatedly question the man's logic when he insisted a seven-year-old child had the chemical background necessary to turn hair blue; let alone make it happen instantly and without touching the hair in question. In the end, he chalked it up as an anomaly, perhaps with the shampoo he used, and dismissed the substitute. Afterwards, he made a note to run a background check on Mr. Mulligan's mental health.

Of course, by the school system, the principal had to tell Aunt Petunia of the incident. In front of the principal, she managed to stay calm, but Harry could tell after 6 years of experience that the subtle stiffening and pursing of lips meant he'd get something for it later. The second they were out of public range, his prediction came true.

As soon as they were home, behind the safety of her closed door, Petunia was livid. She smacked and slapped him while repeatedly calling him "freak". He cooked dinner while she glared at him as though it would cause him to erupt in flames. Afterwards, she held his hand over the still-burning heating element "for good measure". When she was done, he cradled his burned hand in pain and distinctly heard her mumble about "freaks", "beating _it_ out of him", and "he's just like _them_". He wasn't sure what "it" was or who "they" were, but it was emphasized heavily in her mutterings.

Petunia told Vernon within a minute of him walking in. Harry knew it wasn't going to be pleasant, the way he said "I'm home" signaled that he had a short temper from the day at work. On that alone, it would mandate a few good beatings to vent his frustrations. Compounded with this news… if he reacted anything like Aunt Petunia…

He had acted worse.

Vernon beat him badly that afternoon after yelling and raging incoherently for almost a full hour. Harry numbly accepted the pain with each resounding thump against the walls and the floor. He knew that his Uncle would just punish "crying" on top of it all, but it was trying when he heard the small *crack* in his arm after being thrown against the floor.

He was eventually shoved into his cupboard, still bleeding, without his meager dinner. Harry did a small self-check-up. From what he could tell, he'd probably broken his arm, his nose was drizzling blood, his eye felt swollen and tender, and the rest of him was covered in various degrees of bruises.

The entire time, he heard them through the crack in his cupboard, emphasizing "them" and "it" in hushed tones. When Dudley came home from whatever friend's house he was at that afternoon, anything else was drowned out by either video games from the living room or his incessant whining for food.

He sat silently in his cupboard the entire time. He knew if he disrupted them, he'd get beaten even worse and at the moment, he didn't want to risk any more injury. He shoved his fist into his gut to prevent it from growling at the smell and sounds of the dinner he cooked.

He had started to staunch the flow of blood when they finished watching telly for the evening and he heard their heavy footsteps on the stairs above him. The house was pitch black as all of the downstairs lights were shut off from the switch at the top of the stairwell. He heard them shuffling around upstairs until he could make out the faint snores of Uncle Vernon and Dudley and occasional sleep-murmur from Petunia.

He settled down, but couldn't find a comfortable enough position to sleep in. His left forearm seared with pain every time it jostled the wrong way and the bruises elsewhere prevented him from lying down without wincing at the pressure pain.

In the end, he just sat upright and leaned against the cupboard door. He held his left arm with his right to keep the bone from being jostled. _What will happen now?_ He wondered. He felt his arm was definitely broken; the arm was slightly swollen and a large, nasty bruise was on in the middle of it where the pain was greatest. Even moving his arm caused the pain to flare up. Uncle Vernon had never broken any bones before. Would he go to the hospital? Would anyone care? What would happen?

He sat there for a long while and silently waited. He knew he couldn't cry out at night and wake the Dursleys. That just led to even worse beatings.

He eventually heard the small chime of the tacky mantle clock in the sitting room strike twelve. He couldn't help himself. He was scared and in pain. A few tears managed to squeeze their way out of his eyes.

_No, you're not a baby!_ He mentally scolded himself. He sniffled quietly and wiped his eyes.

Still, he sat in his small space and looked out the vent his Aunt and Uncle had forgotten to close. The moon was bright that night and came out from the clouds. The soft, white light illuminated the kitchen and the light from off the polished floors lit up the rest of the house.

Harry was amazed how much he could make out. The television set, the table, the coat rack…

He blinked.

They didn't have a coat rack.

Certainly not one that tall.

His eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out what looked like a man in a black suit. From his vantage point, he could make out that the figure was very tall and had a black business suit like the ones he'd seen Uncle Vernon wear on his way to work, though this figure had a very, very thin suit as opposed to Vernon's. The grate and angle prevented him from seeing the face, though.

The figure didn't move the entire time, but Harry got the feeling it was searching for something. He shivered as his pain-numbed mind realized; someone else was in the house!

Harry paid attention in the safety course at his primary school, he knew about burglars and robbers. He knew they dressed in weird, dark colors and broke into houses at night. This man was obviously here to steal things from the Dursleys!

Out of fear of making a sound, he sat rooted to the spot. It must have been five minutes and the figure hadn't moved an inch.

Harry frowned. He watched a cartoon-y safety video with the rest of his class. It showed a man in dark clothes with a brown bag and a flashlight walking around the house and taking things. The only thing was, the burglar depicted comically walked around on his tip-toes or in an exaggerated "stealthy walk". This figure just stood there. Harry wondered if this was what real burglars did… He idly wondered where the "stealing" part came in.

Suddenly, the dust in his cupboard tickled his nose. Before he could stop it, he had let out an explosive sneeze in the silence of the house.

Horrified, he clamped his hand to his mouth and shuddered as he slowly turned back to the grate opening. The figure was still in the same spot as before, but it had shifted its position…

Towards his cupboard!

Harry scrambled backwards against the far wall of his space, giving a muffled cry as his broken arm reminded him of its presence. He decided that any more noise he made would be useless anyways since the burglar obviously knew where he was.

All he heard was his own breathing as he watched the light through the vertical slats of the vent. The figure didn't make any sound at all, but it moved in front of the grate, blocking out the light. Something that sounded like the soft slithering of a snake moved around out there and he heard the soft *click* of his cupboard latch.

Confused, Harry sat pressed against the wall as the figure moved away and light came pouring back in. He didn't dare to move for a long time until he heard the clock chime 1.

He slowly made his way back to the vent and peered out.

The moon was still up and he couldn't see anything around. Cautiously, he leaned against the door and almost lost his balance as it swung open. He opened it fully and stepped out into the moonlit house.

The figure wasn't around, nor were any footprints or any indication he was ever there.

Harry went back to his cot in the cupboard to mull things over.

_How do I explain this?_ He thought. _What would Uncle Vernon say if I tell him someone broke in and did nothing but unlatch my cupboard? He'd probably just accuse me of unlocking it myself and see a new padlock and deadbolt put on as well. Then, he'd probably accuse me of stealing despite the fact that nothing's missing._

He sighed and shifted his weight. Again, he felt a sharp flare of pain from his arm. Looking down, he saw the skin had gone blotchy around the pain and a few cuts started giving off a yellowish goo. He wasn't squeamish, though. The Dursleys had given him cuts and burns before that caused that yellow stuff sometimes.

Though, he couldn't stop to clean it before.

He only had short baths spaced very far apart. His 5 minute bathroom breaks weren't nearly enough to do his "business" and clean the wounds adequately. The rest of the time, he was either in his cupboard or out working in the garden.

Looking down at the yellow pus and bruises, he decided mysterious man or no, he could get out of his cupboard for once and deal with the pain. He slowly opened the door, cringing every time the hinges creaked in the silent house, but the continuous muffled snoring allowed him to relax.

He crept up the staircase, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards and stair steps that had been weakened by the strain of having to deal with his cousin's and uncle's weights. He managed to get to the washroom on the upper level.

He left the lights off. Thankfully, the moonlight through the window was more than enough to work by. He opened the faucet to a silent trickle and took an old towel from under the sink and wetted it. He gingerly dabbed at his wounds, slightly relieved as the blood and pus wiped away. He searched in the cabinet and found a small first aid kit.

Inside was a small first aid booklet. He flipped to the page on broken bones and found some bandages and a spare lead pipe from the cabinet under the sink. He put a layer of bandage over his arm and lined up the pipe along his forearm to the palm of his hand so it kept his wrist flat. Then, following the book's instructions, he secured the pipe with a few more layers of the bandages. He cut the bandages off with some large shears that came with the kit.

It was uncomfortable, but it helped him not move his arm as much.

He also found some antibiotic ointment as well. He was immensely relieved when he put it on the cuts and the stove burn from earlier. It cooled the mildly burning pain and his cuts felt "cleaner" than they had in years.

He closed the top lid to the toilet and sat on it. He kept gently dabbing on the cooling ointment and even putting a few band-aids on some of the worse cuts and scrapes.

After a few minutes, he sat there, collecting his thoughts and allowing the ointment to help relieve the pain. It was very relaxing; the dim moonlight was not as harsh as the bathroom light's glare and he was relieved at the silence throughout the house.

Save for a mild ringing in his ears.

Confused, he gently fiddled with his ears to see if the ringing would go away. Interestingly, he found that after moving his head around, the ringing seemed to have a source. Swiveling his head around, he determined it was outside.

Slowly, he went to the single window in the room and peered through the curtains.

In the dim light from outside, he could make out a few trees, the outlines of the other houses, the lamppost-

He gasped when he saw it.

Under the streetlight's dim cone of yellow light, was a figure in a business suit. Harry was frustrated that the tall figure's face was obscured by the darkness just outside the cone of light, but he knew that it was the same character that managed to get in the house.

Again, Harry got the distinct impression the figure was looking right at him; as though he knew that the young boy was looking out the window despite being in the darkened bathroom and hidden behind a layer of curtains.

The black-haired youth, almost defiantly, stared back at the figure. Almost daring him to make a move. He could swear he heard the distorted sound of chuckling inside his own head; like a laugh from another channel on the TV that didn't quite tune right through the static.

*Thump!*

He whirled around to the sound, his ears straining to find the source. The house was completely silent and he waited for a few seconds before cautiously turning back around to the window.

The figure was gone.

So was the slight ringing and static. Harry frowned in confusion, grateful for the silence to think in. It was a lot easier to concentrate and think than his thought being broken by Vernon's snores-

Wait…_silence_.

He was blinded as the lights to the bathroom suddenly flared to life. His eyes couldn't make out much in the harsh light, but he saw the large figure of his Uncle in the doorway.

"_YOU!_"

Harry saw the large blur start hulking its way towards him.

"_WHAT THE DEVIL ARE YOU DOING OUT OF YOUR CUPBOARD, BOY!?"_

In a split second decision, Harry picked up the silver shears he used to cut the bandages. His Uncle picked him off the ground by the neck and Harry flailed wildly. The shears managed to cut his Uncle on the arm and the larger man cried out in pain, releasing the smaller child.

Harry scrambled backwards as his Uncle hissed in pain with his other hand clamped over the wound to help staunch the mild flow of blood. He looked down and saw an opening on his Uncle's left side. He dove for it, but was snatched up again by the irate uncle. This time, Harry's bandaged left arm, fortified with a lead pipe, managed to collide his Uncle's leg. He thought he heard a small *crack!* and his uncle howled in pain before collapsing and clutching his shin.

Harry took the opportunity and scrambled out of the bathroom. He raced down the stairs and threw open the door to the night air. Just before he was off Number 4's lawn, he heard his uncle's bellow echo across the neighborhood.

"POTTER!"

* * *

And so, Harry found himself long past Privet Drive. He made it to the wooded park a number of streets down from Number 4. He slowed down and found a vacant park bench. The large park was empty, so he lay down, careful of his left arm and huddled for warmth on the bench. The autumn wind didn't help, but at least he'd kept his day clothes on instead of the pitiful excuse for pajamas the Dursleys gave him. The jeans were warm enough to keep him from getting hypothermia.

The 7-year-old thought about where he'd be going from here. What would he do? Where would he go? How would he eat? Sleep? Live?

He sniffled and allowed a few tears to drip down.

All he wanted was to go back to his cupboard at this point. He didn't want the attention or the cold or the fear, even if he was hurt by them, sometimes they'd let him be in the blissful state of "ignoring him as if he didn't exist". Those days, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and even Dudley wouldn't cast a second glance at him. He'd be so grateful on those days as it signaled he'd go to bed without a couple of bruises and cuts and maybe even a small meal.

He silently cursed himself for ever turning the teacher's hair blue. It was his fault. He didn't know why, he didn't know how, but he was sure it had something to do with him. With "_it_" as his Aunt had said.

What's more, he cursed the figure. He had no clue what the suited man wanted, why it let him out , or why he got Harry in this situation, but if he had never interfered, maybe he'd be able to just live in his relative obscurity.

He shifted to get comfortable on the park bench. He was glad he'd thought to put a protective layer between the lead pipe and his skin; he could feel the cold metal leeching his body heat even through the bandage, but he imagined it'd be worse if the bandage wasn't there at all.

He'd just started giving in to the numbness of sleep, when he… _felt_ a presence.

He slowly sat up. It was like this one time Dudley was feeling less physical and more annoying during a car ride. He spent the entire time with his fat finger a centimeter from the side of Harry's head chanting "I'm not touching you. I'm not touching you." He knew the finger was there, he just didn't see it and it nagged at the back of his head and he could "feel" something there insisting he look.

He slowly turned around and allowed his eyes to adjust to the park.

…

There.

About ten feet away was the same figure in a suit standing next to a short lamp post. He could confirm the figure must have been almost nine feet tall, it was almost as tall as the post itself. Again, the figure's face was shrouded in the shadows cast by the light and Harry couldn't make out any features other than the fact that its neck showed he had pale skin, if not white altogether and matched the same color as his white dress shirt. If it wasn't for the collar, Harry would have almost guessed the figure wasn't wearing a shirt at all.

He could "feel" the eyes on him, so he feigned bravery and angrily stared right back at the area he supposed his eyes would be.

_Hahahaha_.

He jolted. It was another chuckle, similar to what he heard in the bathroom, but much clearer than before.

He shivered as the figure stood still as if waiting for him to do something. His initial fear of the man gradually receded to wary curiosity. He didn't feel like the figure meant to do him any harm. If anything, the figure was almost benign.

He slowly walked towards the figure until he was within the cone of yellow light from the dim street light.

"Who are you?" He asked quietly.

The figure didn't respond, instead simply standing there facing Harry. Harry was undeterred.

"What do you want?"

The figure crouched down. Its long legs bent awkwardly and its arm came down to stabilize itself. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he finally saw the figure's face-

Or, rather, lack thereof.

The figure's face was blank and as white as an empty canvas. There were slight indentations, emphasized by the shadows, that were similar an old statue where the face was weathered away, but you could make out the faded curves that may have been a nose and eye sockets.

There was no mouth nor any indication of any ever being there. The "nose" indentation had no orifices for breathing. His completely hairless head showed he had no ears either.

There were no eyes in the "eye" indentations, but Harry got the feeling it could still "see" him.

For a few seconds, they both silently regarded each other before the tall man slowly extended a long arm towards Harry. The pale, white hand faced palm upwards as if offering something. The message came clear to his head. It felt as though the figure "talked" in a deep bass with a vague American accent, and the voice came from his direction, but it was not sound-based at all. It was confusing to "hear" someone without his ears.

"_I want to offer a choice, child. If you wish, I want to help you leave this place._"

Harry looked down at the hand being offered. He didn't know who this figure was… or even _what_ this figure was, but whatever it was, it offered an alternative. It offered him a choice.

He glanced back at the direction of Privet Drive. Memories flooded him of Vernon's temper, Petunia's neurosis, Dudley's spoilt behavior, Aunt Marge's cruelty, the uncaring teachers, the mean children. His jaw clenched and his back straightened.

He reached out his cut, bruised, and burnt, but not broken, arm to the figure and grasped the hand.

The figure straightened, but its arm was long enough that Harry could hold on comfortably despite its incredible height.

The lights all around the park flickered off suddenly, leaving the entire lot moonlit. The tall figure and the young boy walked soundlessly in the darkness. The intricate shadows cast by the branches criss-crossed and soon grew denser and denser.

And with a faint rustle of wind through the autumn trees, the pair disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

Leaving the park as though they were never there.

* * *

**AN: I'm trying a different angle on Creepypastas. They'll still be off-kilter sanity-wise, but there will be some variance of "niceness" and less trying-to-kill-Harry-at-first-meeting.**

**But fear not… there will be _evil_, there will be _gore_, and there _will be the corruption of Harry Potter by the Pastas!_ Muahahahah!**

**Enjoy.**

**Sincerely,**

**-The Smiling Crow**

* * *

**I thought Pasta fans would like this. Down here, I'll put the name of the characters and their creator (if I can find them) along with their respective Pasta title, if available.**

**-Slenderman: no official pasta: created by Victor Surge  
**


	2. A Pasta Dinner

**Warning: Lots of hints towards fictional child abuse.**

**The Pastas may seem a bit OOC at the moment (if there ever was a true cannon personality to most of them), but their murderous tendencies will come out.**

**Just so no one freaks out, this is not in the cannon Harry Potter universe. Half of the pastas wouldn't exist (namely BEN and Smile) back in the 80s, so this is probably closer to the present, or at least 2000-2010-ish. I know a few ages are off, but the cannon 17 year old Ticci Tobi didn't seem right for most of his depictions. Same with a 13 year old Jeff the Killer. So I took some artistic liberties and adjusted their ages a bit.**

**I hope you enjoy**

**-Crow**

**And remember: "Creativity, not reality".**

* * *

Harry followed the tall figure into the denser forest. Eventually the moonlight was blocked out by the criss-crossing branches overhead. Once they were completely in the dark, Harry felt something like a gust of cool wind, but it felt as though the world were shifting around in the darkness as well. It wasn't uncomfortable; actually, it was a bit exciting. He suspected this was what those roller coaster things were like that Dudley rode on at amusement parks.

When the feeling stopped, Harry looked around and saw that they were, again, in a forest. Though, he took a breath and noticed the air smelled different. Looking up, he saw the moon was shifted from the position they'd left.

"… um… excuse me… sir?" He asked tentatively.

The figure looked down (even though he didn't have eyes) giving the young child his attention.

"W-where are we?"

The figure nodded. Again, the voice returned. It sounded like it was coming from the tall man, but it was purely from Harry's own mind. "_I am glad you sensed the change. As for the formalities, my name is the Slenderman. One word. Though you will find some of my… associates call me 'Slendy'. To answer your question, we are in the rural forest of the Northeast Coast of America._

"Oh, well, my name is Harry. Harry Potter. Two words. We're all the way in America?" Harry thought back. He remembered a history lesson about a place called America. It was supposed to be short for their real title; The United States of America. They hadn't learned much yet besides they separated from Britain a long time ago and helped out in wars.

"_Yes. New York State, to be exact."_ Slenderman replied.

Harry remembered seeing a globe once in the classroom. "Isn't that like a million miles away?"

The Slenderman- gave an echo-y mind-chuckle. "_3,300 miles to be exact._"

"Wow!" The child whispered. He'd never been anywhere outside of Little Whinging. "How'd we get all the way here?"

The faceless entity gave the impression of smiling. "_Just something I do._"

The pair continued walking in silence through the dark forest. Harry listened as the dead branches, mulch, and gravel crunched under their feet. After some time, he looked around and saw a drawing tacked onto the tree with a figure that looked distinctly like the entity next to him.

"Mr. Slenderman, what's that?" He pointed.

"_That, Harry, is the artwork of an individual who lives nearby. She draws all of us, though she has the tendency to draw me and put them up in the surrounding forest. I believe it is her idea of a game. That or she thinks I won't see it unless she puts them out in the forest._" Slenderman responded. "_She lives with me and many others like myself in a mansion up ahead. That is where I am taking you. I have an associate who deals with medicine. He can help you._"

Harry nodded. He'd never been to the doctor before. Once, he was sent to the nurse after Dudley beat him up again (his cousin got away with it unseen, of course), but the Dursleys were livid about it when she mentioned the bruises. They immediately blamed it on his "delinquent behavior".

They continued walking for a few minutes before Harry made out a faint, yellow glow in the distance. As they approached, Harry's eyes adjusted and right in the center of the forest was a large mansion. Harry couldn't make out many details, but from the windows, it must have been at least three stories high.

He and Slenderman walked up to the front wrap-around porch and the older entity opened the slightly-taller-than-normal door and ushered him inside.

Harry looked around in awe at the foyer. He'd honestly expected something a bit more dilapidated, but everything here would probably make the Dursleys green with envy. The wallpaper was an old-fashioned blue and black floral design. The wood floors and panels were all the same dark oak. A few portraits were hung on the walls, but it wasn't too decorated aside from a mirror and end table against the wall, a chandelier, and a grandfather clock ticking away in the corner.

Slenderman led him through an archway to another room. This one had a red and maroon floral design, lots of chairs and couches, a few end tables, and a currently-vacant fireplace.

"_Please wait here, Harry. I need to go find Jack, my associate, so he can give you proper medical treatment._"

Harry nodded and watched as the figure walked out of the room. Harry noticed that the ceilings were slightly higher than normal as the tall entity didn't have to crouch down to get under the archway.

Being slightly less energetic than most seven year olds, Harry was content to sit on the winged armchair and look around the room he was in. More portraits were lined up against the walls. Looking closer, he saw some were fairly normal: fruit, landscapes, and a few animals. However, he caught a few glimpses of some paintings the Dursleys wouldn't let anywhere inside their house.

One depicted a man, or at least what was left of him. The skeletal remains were probably in the same regal position as the original man, but the eyes, nose, and skin was rotted away and a few straggly white hairs clung to the skull. Another had landscapes of black trees and fog. One had a crow perched on a vacant armchair eyeing the observer. Harry got the distinct impression it was smirking at some silent joke.

Harry wasn't unsettled by them. He actually thought they looked very cool. The Dursleys strove to be "normal" by their definition and, as such, their pictures were replicas of paintings of fruit, fake idealized landscapes, and, of course, picture upon picture of Dudley at various ages. It all became rather boring.

He was drawn to one portrait that he dared to leave his chair quickly to look at.

He recognized Slenderman on the right, but he saw three others with him. One was a figure that looked almost exactly like him, save for some glasses perched on a non-existent nose to correct vision for non-existent eyes and he wore a somewhat fashionable tan sweater. Another looked remarkably similar to Slenderman save for a large, toothy grin splitting his face. Harry was slightly unsettled, it seemed vaguely predatory. The grinning figure wore a grey fedora and trench coat, but a bright, red rose was in its hand, giving some color.

He was immediately drawn to the central figure of the painting. This one looked like Slenderman in that it wore a black suit, but the only difference… actually one of the _many_ differences was that his black suit was littered with brightly colored polka dots ranging through every color of the rainbow. The figure had a top hat perched on its head, but what set it apart was the face. Unlike the other three, he was not paper white, but was more "fleshy" colored and had a smile, an honest smile, with slightly rosy cheeks, a distinct nose, and small, black eyes forming a slight upside-down U from the smile below.

Harry was still looking at the figures when he heard a voice speak up from behind him.

"Oh, that's Slendy's family."

Harry was startled and quickly turned around to see a girl about his age. She had long, brown hair and the same emerald, green eyes that had an ethereal glow behind them. She wore a pink nightgown and was completely barefoot with a brown teddy bear tucked under her arm as though she was just about to go to sleep or just woke up. Her major difference, though, was the streams of crimson blood criss-crossing on her face which Harry noticed led up to a scarlet patch of hair and lightly dented part of her skull.

"S-sorry, I- I just wanted to look around." He quickly walked back to his chair and sat down upset that he'd probably gotten into trouble for not staying put.

"Oh, that's alright. I walk around all the time and Slendy doesn't mind." She smiled. "My name's Sally and this is Sammy." She gestured to the brown teddy bear. "What's yours?"

"Harry."

She blinked and snickered. Harry was confused. "Sorry?"

"Oh, sorry, I just remember a movie Jeff talked about with someone with your name and my name meeting, but Slendy says I'm not old enough to watch it."

"Oh, how old are you?"

"Eight… sort of. How old are you?"

"Seven. W-what do you mean 'sort of'?"

Sally grinned. "I'm a ghost. I died when I was eight, but that was a while ago, so I guess I'm older."

Harry stared wide-eyed at her, uncomprehending, and before his rational brain could object, he slowly reached out his arm.

*poke*

She just snickered and returned the poke, proving her solidity. In response, Harry could only blink in confusion. "Wait, I thought ghosts were transparent and… not-solid and… well… ghostly." He finished lamely.

She nodded. "I've never actually seen any ghosts like that. I remember Halloween stories always said they were faded white and floaty, but any ghosts Slendy ever showed us were solid or colorful like me." She grinned. "It's a lot more fun this way. I can't imagine not being able to eat cake, can you?"

Harry shuffled, mumbling under his breath that he'd never had it before.

He noticed her gaze wander and lock on his make-shift splint. "You're hurt" She whispered. Her bubbly personality evaporated.

Harry shuffled his arm a behind his back, but her eyes didn't stop following it. "It's alright. It's nothing."

"Did the adults do that to you?" She asked. Harry was a startled at how serious and almost hateful she sounded. "When they played their games?"

"S-sorry?"

"They hurt me when they played their games. Then, my Uncle took me to the park for another game. That one hurt real bad." Her hand wandered up to the slight dent in her skull. "But, I had him play my game afterwards…"

"I-I'm fine! R-really! Mr. Slenderman took me here to talk to someone to help me feel better."

She broke her gaze on the pipe splint to look back. Her eyes softened again. "Slendy's really nice. He helped me when I was all alone. You'll feel better." She smiled.

Harry relaxed and looked back at the painting. "S-so, Mr. Slenderman has a family?"

She nodded. She pointed to each one as she spoke. "There's Slendy, of course. The one with the glasses is Trendy. The one with the teeth is Offendy. And the colorful one is Splendy."

"Trendy, Offendy, and Splendy. Are they short for something?"

"Trenderman, Offenderman, and Splendorman."

Harry snickered. It seemed the "-erman" was a family thing.

"I think Splendorman looks pretty fun." He said.

She smiled. "Yep! He's always really happy and has fun games to play... not like the other games..."

Harry sensed the tone from earlier and quickly redirected the conversation. "Yeah, he's always really happy. I can't imagine him mad."

Sally's grin faded a bit. "He's rarely ever mad, but he's scarier than Slendy when he is." She admitted.

Harry felt himself pale. He looked back at the bright, colorful, smiling figure in the family portrait and tried, but failed, to imagine any form of negativity.

Sally broke his thoughts. "So, did you just get to the house?" He nodded. "I can show you around if you want." She offered.

Harry frowned briefly at what the choice offered. On one hand, he told Slendy he'd stay put and he didn't want to make him angry just after he met him. On the other hand, he was really curious about the house and didn't want Sally to think he wasn't a good friend... if they could even be called friends at this point... he'd never had any before to really compare to.

"W-well, I told Slendy I-I wouldn't wander off." He said, trying to explain.

"Oh. Well, I know where he is if he's talking to Jack. We can go there, too. Plus, you're not wandering off far. If he shouts inside the mansion, everyone can hear it." She said.

"Well…" He trailed off. Again, the dichotomy tugged on his conscience. In the end, he decided to just give a quick nod and was pulled away by the excited girl.

"Okay, so I'll show you around! This is the front room, but Slendy calls it a 'foy-yay'." She said. Harry had been to the foyer, but it was still just as nice as before. She continued pulling him through halls.

"Here's the TV room." The room was surprisingly modern, with standard couches in front of a medium-sized entertainment center.

"Here's the dining room." Lots of high, stiff-backed chairs were lined around a long table, but they didn't look terribly uncomfortable, just a bit formal.

"Here's the music room." A piano stood in the corner, surrounded by various string, brass, and percussion instruments. Harry thought he'd look into a few. He always wanted to learn to play.

"And here's the kitchen, the sitting room, the moon room-"

"Moon room?" It looked more like a greenhouse got fused to the room with a few chairs and plants in it. Although, it did let in a lot of the moonlight.

"Well, in most houses it's called a sun room, but a lot of guests are pretty nocturnal, so we call it the moon room." She explained.

"Here's the conservatory, the trophy room, and library. Jeff doesn't like it here because he has to study, but I like to bring my coloring books sometimes.

"And to finish off," she said in front of a small room by the kitchen with coat hooks and boots next to a back door. "The mud room! It's supposed to be for mud, but Slendy still doesn't like me dragging mud through it."

As she finished speaking, the door opened and two figures walked in. Harry stumbled backwards in fear as a large, red and black dog-thing walked in. He still had minor trauma from Marge's dog, Ripper. This thing was enough to bring it all back.

He noticed it was attached to a leash and he followed it up to the second figure who came through. He couldn't help himself but stare. The figure had on a plain, white hoodie, or at least it used to be white. It was covered in splashes of red, which Harry could tell had a distinct metallic smell. Shaking like a leaf, he looked further up. The dog's owner had scraggly, black hair and was as pale as Slenderman, but he definitely had a face… a very memorable face.

The skin around his eye was blackened and shriveled near the edges while the eyes themselves had beady, gray irises. But Harry couldn't stop looking at his smile. It was literally carved into his cheeks like he'd taken a razor right to them.

"Harry?"

The figure glared at Harry, his shriveled, practically non-existent eyelids narrowing slightly. Harry noticed the bloodshot eyes hesitated as they flickered over his makeshift splint.

"Harry!"

"W-what?" He was jolted back to Sally, nudging him. Seeing him tremble, she tried to smile comfortingly.

"This is Jeffery Woods, but we just call him Jeff." The figure gave an annoyed grunt still giving an unblinking glare. "The dog is named Smile. Smile, could you…?"

The dog… nodded? And suddenly a ripple went from its nose down its body and the red and black fur was replaced with white and black until a perfectly normal Husky dog stood there. The only difference was it was smiling at Harry with human teeth.

"Smile's a special dog." Sally explained. Harry could only nod, he was still struggling to not stare at Jeff.

"Harry, come on! I want to show you the upstairs!" She grabbed his good arm and led him back to the foyer and up the staircase.

When they were out of range, she stopped and let him gather himself. "W-what was-"

"Like I said, that was Jeff and Smile. Smile's a kind of demon-dog, but he can look like a normal Husky. I guess you don't like dogs?"

"My Aunt Marge's dog was pretty mean. What was with Jeff's… um…"

"Face? Yeah, I thought you'd want to talk about it. That's why I got us away. He's pretty sensitive about how he looks."

"But what happened?"

"He did it to himself. His eyelids are burnt, so he can't really blink. He needs special eyedrops 'cause he can't get his eyes wet anymore. He got in a bad chemical accident, so his skin got all white. As for his smile, he cut it up himself."

"How does he eat and talk?"

"Dunno. He manages somehow, though." She led him through the hallways of the mansion to a specific door with a few pictures taped on. "This is my room."

She let him in and he saw the room was very… pink. He'd never been in a girl's room, but since he'd never had any friends before he'd never been in anyone else's room. Childish drawings of various figures were taped up on the walls. There were a few dressers and a small desk by the window. In the center, was a small pink and white canopy bed. The only thing slightly off from the scene was the fact that the bed had bloodstains around the pillow and the drawings tended to depict slightly disturbing and unnerving figures.

Harry saw one that was a caricature of a person with two large circles for eyes, long black hair, and a long, red smile. He figured that was Jeff. Looking around, he saw one with a character in a long black robe with a white mask with a long beak-like nose. Another had a person whose head was just a blue circle with two black dots for eyes. Seeing the pictures, he suddenly remembered the walk here. "Hey, you're the one who drew the pictures in the woods!"

"Oh, Slendy saw? Yay!"

Harry nodded. "Why do you put them there, anyway?"

She put her finger to her lip in the universal code of secrecy. "Don't tell him. It'll spoil the game." She whispered.

Harry smiled and nodded. She led him out and down a few more doors. She glanced around and slowly peeked inside before opening it wider. "This is Jeff's room. He doesn't really like a lot of people inside."

Harry glanced around the room.

It was a mess!

The walls were covered in scary posters of various heavy metal bands. The desk in the corner looked hardly used for actual work and more as a makeshift display for a wide variety of knives, blades, drills, saws, and other weaponry. The floor was littered with clothes, though white hoodies and black shirts and jeans tended to be dominant. A small doggy-bed was next to Jeff's bed which Harry assumed was for Smile. He grimaced at a pair of red boxers lying around next to a few empty pizza boxes. _Wait, how do they get pizza delivery?_

His eyes fell on the one spot that didn't have a mess around it. A nightstand in the corner was completely clear of any debris save for a small picture in a frame. He couldn't focus on it clearly, but he managed to make out four figures.

He didn't voice the question, but was dragged off by Sally to the other rooms. "Okay, here's Slendy's room. Be quiet and don't go in. We're not supposed to."

Like Jeff's room, he peered in from the threshold. It was a medium sized master room with just an extra-long bed in the center, a nightstand, a dresser, and a closet full of what Harry could guess was a lot of black suits and white shirts.

Satisfied he'd seen it all, Sally led him to a room with some first-person-shooter game posters tacked up. "This is BEN's room, but we sometimes just call him Ben."

"What's the difference?"

"The spelling. BEN is in all capitals. Ben is like the normal name."

"Oh."

Inside was a pretty cool room. It had a few consoles for various systems lying around. A desk in the corner had some piece of technology with its wires and circuits systematically removed and laid out on the bench. The walls had posters for Call of Duty, Legend of Zelda, and a few in what looked like Japanese. The room was dark save for a few black lights and a computer monitor with a figure in front tapping away at the keyboard, facing away from them.

"Hey, BEN." Sally said cheerfully.

"Go away, Sally." He droned, not taking his eyes from the screen. Harry managed to maneuver his vision around BEN's head. The computer displayed what looked like line upon line of green text. It kept scrolling around, making it hard to see any pattern to it.

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to meet Harry?" She begged.

"We'll probably discuss it at dinner. I've got someone on this website I'm gonna game over." He replied absently taking a sip from a Sonic soda cup with a straw. _Seriously, how do people like _this_ get delivery out _here_?!_

Sally pouted, but couldn't argue anymore as BEN dove headfirst into the computer monitor like it was a liquid and crackled away along the internet connection.

Sally led a dumbstruck Harry off to the next hallway.

They came up to a particular door that was very out of place. Instead of the formal, dark oak panel doors the rest of the house had, this one had almost no straight lines and was a mix of black and white in stripes and zig zags that looked like it had been cut right out of a Tim Burton film. Harry had the opportunity to watch a few minutes of _Beetlejuice_ before the Dursleys realized he wasn't in his cupboard. All he managed to see was two characters walking around in a hallway of optical illusion-like doors and tiles, but this one looked straight from that scene.

"This is Jack's room. Well, one of the two. This one is a clown named Laughing Jack. There's another Jack called Eyeless Jack and he's like a doctor. His room is actually in the basement where he works." She explained, opening the door.

The room itself was largely black-and-white color scheme from the bed to the wallpaper. Inside was a mess. Prank kits, whoopee cushions, balloon animals, and even a few rubber chickens were strewn about with candy wrappers and a few odd toys. A desk in the corner had a number of beakers and flasks emitting a foul-smelling green vapor from a few chemicals that Harry guessed were some form of homemade stink bombs. An accordion was set on a chair in the corner with a few bits of sheet music strewn about.

Harry also noticed a few… less childish aspects to things. Among the toys was a sprung Jack-in-the-Box with a pair of shears on the end of the spring, a bear trap with the mechanism for wind-up "chattering teeth", and some of the "balloon animals" weren't colorful latex, but rather more fleshy pink… bloody… and intestine-y. What's more, a number of knives, darts, and chopsticks were stuck in a poster of a very detailed human anatomy.

"Jack likes pranks. I recommend being far away on April 1st." Sally said, ignoring the "toys" as though they were common. Harry got the feeling that, for her, it was.

Glancing around one last time, Harry's gaze managed to pick up a single shelf with a small box with faded paint. The bright colors didn't give away much, but he managed to make out in what used to be bright yellow paint; "Laughing Jack in the Box".

He soon felt Sally leading him to another room.

"This is Toby's room." She said. Harry noticed a slight tinge of sadness in how she said it.

The room was very standard. No posters or anything on the off-white walls. A few clothes that missed the hamper were on the floor. A desk by the window had some kind of math homework on it. The bed had a gray comforter and some normal white sheets.

Harry would have guessed it would be any American teenager's room, if not for the bloody bandages strewn all over the floor. A corner of the room had an entire desk dedicated to medical equipment and the blood-soaked bandages were congregated most around that area.

The confused seven-year-old turned to the girl who answered the unasked question. "Toby's… sick… He sometimes hurts himself, so he has those bandages on his arms. He usually changes them up here on his own. Sometimes it gets _really_ bad and we need Eyeless Jack..." She trailed off and led him away from the room.

She showed him a few more rooms that were very standard and the rest either had occupants she didn't want to bother or were locked.

At the end of the upstairs tour, she led him back downstairs and into the kitchen. She opened a small door in the back and led him down to the basement level. Harry was surprised to see it was very clean and finished. It looked more like a hospital than a basement. He shivered when he noticed how cold it was, though.

Sally saw him shudder and smiled. "Sorry, I forgot you get cold. Jack prefers to keep the place cool. He says it keeps his 'specimens' better."

She ran upstairs before Harry could say anything and returned with a gray overcoat. "This is the Rake's whenever he goes out. He's been sticking around upstairs so he won't need it soon."

Harry wrapped himself in the coat and let the end drag off of him. He was amazed at the length of it. This Rake guy must be at least 7 feet tall… though Harry still questioned the coolness of naming yourself after a garden tool.

Sally stopped in front of a few heavy-duty doors with glass windows. Grabbing a nearby stool, she peeked in one of them and offered the spot for Harry. "This is the time-out room. We don't need it often, but when we do… we do."

Harry peered inside and saw a small room with poofy white padding on the walls that was made blaringly white thanks to the fluorescent light bulb fixture in the ceiling. He noticed that there was a cool white sweater on the floor, but the arms were too long and it had some uncomfortable-looking metal clasps on it.

Sally led him away to another room. "This is the gym." She informed him. This room had lots of workout equipment along with torture devices and a few dummies with various metallic objects protruding from very painful-looking places.

"We use it to keep fit and to practice." Harry briefly wondered what kind of practice she meant, but was quickly ushered down the hall.

Harry heard voices from one of the rooms and peeked inside. He saw Mr. Slenderman talking to someone who's back was to Harry. Slenderman's head moved slightly and seemed to give an eyeless glare of disapproval.

"_Harry?_" Harry shrunk in on himself in shame.

"Hey whatcha waiting for- oh." Sally said. "H-hello Slendy."

Slenderman's head moved and focused on her. "_I should've known. So, I see you've met our guest, Sally_."

"Mm-hmmm. I've been showing him around." She replied quietly, not making "eye contact" with the faceless guardian.

Slenderman's shoulders raised and lowered in what Harry thought was a breathless sigh. "_Please don't go showing around random strangers, Sally. What have I taught you?_"

"Be careful around strangers and don't talk to them. But Harry told me his name, so that means he's not a stranger." She reasoned.

The faceless entity gave another soundless sigh in exasperation. "_We will discuss that rationale later, Sally. In any case, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to fetch you. Harry, this is Jack, Eyeless Jack._"

The figure Slenderman was talking to earlier turned around. He wore a knee-length white lab coat with a clipboard tucked under his arm and a stethoscope poking out of his pocket. Though, the similarities to any doctor stopped there. Jack had blue-ish-black skin and short, brown hair. But his distinguishing feature was what he was named for. His eyes were just black sockets that were oozing some sort of black, fluid tar-like substance. Despite not having proper eyes, Harry could tell that the sockets were focusing in on him, much like Slenderman.

"Ah, so you're Harry?" The voice sounded a lot like your average 19-year-old, but with an almost professional air to it. Harry nodded and the figure smiled. "Please hop on the table, I'll be with you in a minute. Sally, could you go play in your room, please? I think Harry would like some privacy." Sally nodded and ran back upstairs after giving a comforting smile to Harry.

He grabbed a few medical devices and a mask which he promptly put over his face. Harry saw it was very plain wave for two black holes in it that mimicked his eye sockets and were also, soon after being put on, dripping with the black substance.

"Sorry, but a lot of people I treat here tend to prefer it when I cover my face. It makes them more comfortable." He explained.

"O-oh, I don't mind." Harry said. Jack smiled underneath the mask. He took the Rake's overcoat and put it on a chair nearby before he put a Velcro strap around Harry's arm with his stethoscope on the underside of his elbow. He started pumping a small hand pump and read the guage for Harry's blood pressure.

"H-how can you read that without eyes?" Harry inquired. Jack looked up from writing on the clip board.

"Oh, well, the same way a nine foot tall entity can travel miles in a second, or a kid with his cheeks cut out can still chew his food normally, or a computer virus sits around all day eating junk food in his room. We don't really know, we just chalk it up to some kind of magic." He explained.

Harry visibly flinched at the end of his sentence. Jack noticed it. "Harry, is something wrong?"

"… magic's a bad word…" He whispered half-heartedly.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hurt me when I said it once. They kept telling me magic wasn't real and kept beating me until I said it too."

Jack frowned behind the mask. He turned to Slenderman. "We may want to have someone look at him psychologically, too. No telling what those… _monsters_ did to him."

Jack had heard what Slenderman had said. From what he could see, nothing was an exaggeration. The boy was clearly malnourished, abused, and traumatized. Add on that he spent his life locked away in a cupboard. Jack thought it was ironic that people would call _him_ the monster… even if he did enjoy the occasional pancreas or liver.

"_I will see if anyone can. If not, I will arrange for a specialist in the city._"

Jack continued his examination and took a quick sample of Harry's blood. He noted that the child didn't harbor the typical fear of needles, pain, or blood. Something else to add to his notes.

With Harry's permission, he took several photos of the various scars on his back, arms, and hands. After, Jack put some cream and band-aids on Harry's cuts and bruises. He removed the make-shift splint carefully and looked the arm over and ran a few X-Ray scans of his arm as well as several other bones. He jotted down some more notes before putting a much more comfortable plastic splint in place of the heavy lead pipe and a few mild pain-killers.

At the end, Jack turned to Slenderman. "Well, he's malnourished, that's for sure. I'd recommend some lighter meals to start off with. Lots of light proteins, vitamins, and carbs, though. Maybe some thin soups and light breads. Nothing heavy, oily, or excessively sweet.

"The cuts will heal in time, though some of those bruises look pretty nasty. They'll clear up. Just tell the others, Jeff especially, that they can't rough house with him. Well, it's not like they would with the arm.

"As for the arm, itself, it's a transverse fracture. I'm better with organs, tissue, surgeries, and general medical treatment. Bones are a bit out of my area of expertise besides splint them up and let them heal. Maybe ask BEN to contact Funnymouth online. He's better with bones."

"_I'll see. Funnymouth does have a tendency to be a bit slow, though._"

"Nah, just tell BEN it's urgent. He knows how to get him here in a jiffy."

He turned back to Harry. "Well, that's it, kid. Oh, I almost forgot."

He went over to a cabinet and pulled down a few jars of squishy, floating… things before taking down a small, gray urn. He opened the top and offered it to Harry. "Here's a lollipop for being a good sport."

Looking in, Harry's eyes widened at the sight of dried up human fingers with some kind of light glaze on them. Seeing his hesitation, Jack peeked in. "Oops. Sorry, no those aren't the suckers. Those are… well… my personal… snack, so..."

The eyeless doctor cleared his throat, quickly put the top back on the urn, and placed it back on the shelf before picking up another one. As a precaution, he looked inside. "Yep, here's the suckers."

He held out the urn with colorful lollipops in it. Harry, a bit uncoordinated from the many events this past hour or so combined with the painkillers beginning to take effect, decided to "roll with it" as he'd heard someone say once. He picked out a red, cherry one and pocketed it, not wanting to waste his first real sweet just then.

His stomach gave a loud gurgle and he looked sheepish.

"_Ah, I forgot. Those relatives of yours must not have fed you, did they?_" Slenderman asked.

Harry shook his head, clenching his gut to keep his stomach from making more noise.

Jack gave an inhuman growl which Harry was nervous was directed at him for some reason. "Those basta- sorry- beasts! What do they get out of starving a seven year old? Is it just for some kind of sick pleasure?"

Slenderman sighed. "_I'm afraid that may be the case. I think we have some condensed soup in the pantry. I'll ask Timothy to make some diluted for Harry for dinner tonight._"

"Dinner?" Harry asked, confused.

"_Ah, I apologize. It was 2 AM back in Surrey, but don't forget we're in New York now. It's actually close to 9 PM. We eat dinners rather late, but otherwise we have breakfasts, lunches, and snacks like most. We also have some... unusual, nocturnal guests and tenants who eat lunches and dinners in the middle of the night and early morning hours._"

Harry nodded, somewhat understanding the time zones from a quick lesson in class. He followed Slenderman back up the stairs. He led Harry to the dining room and had him sit in a chair close to the head chair.

The tall, faceless entity went into the kitchen and talked with someone, probably about the soup he promised, and returned to sit down in the head chair next to Harry's.

"_Now, Harry, dinner is about to start. We have a lot of… unusual guests. They may seem scary, and believe me there's a reason for that, but just know that since I am here, you will not be in danger._"

Harry nodded and waited apprehensively for the guests to start filing in. The clock in the foyer chimed nine thirty and people slowly made their way in.

Harry saw E.J. without his mask walk in first and gave a quick wave which the medic returned. Jeff came in next and eyed him unblinkingly before settling in a chair on the other side of the table. Sally came in eagerly sitting next to him. He was grateful she came before as she was helpful in naming people who came in.

A black and white clown with a vicioius grin was apparently the other Jack, "Laughing Jack", who had the weird door. His entire being looked like something where the colors were bleached out. He wore black suspenders and a tiny black-and-white shirt with some odd black tufts of feathers sticking out of his shoulders. Harry noticed he had an odd conical nose that didn't seem to be a prosthetic and roll upon roll of bandaging tape around his arms and torso.

BEN turned out to look like a kid not much older than Sally with long, pointy ears like an elf and he wore a green tunic. Harry barely recognized him as the main hero from the _Legend of Zelda_ series. His cousin played a few of the games before the puzzles and challenges got too difficult for him to solve, at which point he would promptly toss the game and get another. The main difference between the two was that BEN's eyes had red irises and black scleras dripping with blood. He vaguely wondered how Eyeless Jack and BEN managed to go around without dripping all over the place. He agreed with Jack and chalked it up to... magic.

Two normal-looking guys came in and sat on the other side of Slenderman. Sally explained they were Tim and Brian, or were usually called Masky and Hoodie, respectively. She explained that they usually wore their masks around the house, but not at meals.

Smile trotted in and lay down under Jeff's chair where the scarred teenager scratched behind his ear.

The Rake turned out to be not at all human. He looked a lot more like an emaciated dog-human hybrid with some really long, sharp talons. Harry's first instincts told him to run, but Slenderman's presence helped keep him in his seat. Harry made a note to get Sally to put the trench coat back where it was as soon as possible. He didn't want to explain it to that thing.

The last one in was another teenager around 15 or so that had on a mouth guard and some bandages wound along his forearms with a faint tinge of red seeping through. Harry noted that as he sat down, he twitched erratically and his fingers fiddled with his fork or whatever was nearby. Sally explained that he was Toby.

They all looked at him (the Rake somewhat hungrily), but otherwise just waited around the table. Slenderman stood up and they focused on him. "_Attention, everyone. I want to introduce Harry Potter._" His long arm gestured towards the child next to him. "_I've relocated him from a… household in the United Kingdom. As you can see, he's injured and will be staying with us for some time, possibly becoming a resident if he so chooses._"

Harry looked up at that. He'd never had a choice before.

"_However, I expect you to be nice to him and _no roughhousing_._" He sent a pointed glare at Jeff.

The teenager spoke. "I don't see why he's here, Slendy. What makes him different from everyone else you relocate?"

"_For one, he's badly injured. For another, he was severely abused and may need some extended treatment. Also… I think he may fit in, if he so chooses to stay_."

Several members around the table glanced curiously at Harry. The 7 year old shrank under the scrutiny, but it seemed as though they were either judging him or doubting what Slenderman said.

"_Now, I know not everyone is present, but I think it may help if we allow introductions_. _How about name, age… and something we enjoy_." Slenderman remembered this game from when he used to stalk elementary school classrooms for abused and troubled children. He thought it might help in this situation.

He gestured to each of them to begin.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter. I'm 7 and I… haven't had much time to find things I like."

A few heads tilted slightly in confusion and curiosity.

"I'm Sally Williams. I'm 8 and I like drawing."

"I'm BEN, but you can call me Ben. I'm around 10, I think, and I like games, computers, and trolling forums."

The teen in the facemask excitedly introduced himself to the new face. "Hi! I'm Toby Rogers. I'm 15 and I like setting things on fire and movies and video games and pie and waffles and-!"

"_Thank you Tobias. That will do._"

"I'm Brian Thomas. I'm 21 and I like recording films." He introduced himself very quietly.

"I'm Tim Sutton. I'm 20 and I like drug and medical chemistry… and smoking." Harry could tell. The man had the distinct smell of tobacco around him, but his eyes had dark shadows under them and he seemed slightly restless.

"I'm Laughing Jack. I'm ageless, but sort-of started to exist officially in the early 1900's and I _looooveee_ pranks! Heheheheheee."

"I'm Jeff. Jeff Woods. I'm 15 and I like sleeping, watching TV,… and crashing slumber parties." He added, his carved grin widening.

"I'm Eyeless Jack. I'm around 18 to 19 and I enjoy medical research, dissections, and cooking."

"I'm The Rake. I'm around 726 and I particularly enjoy the squelching sound when my talons-" He was cut off by a glare from Slenderman. "Er, I mean, I enjoy… _music_. Yeah, music to my ears." He grinned slyly. Slenderman rolled nonexistent eyes, but let it slide.

"_I suppose that leaves me. I am Slenderman. I am also ageless and I particularly enjoy taking hikes around the forest_."

"_Now that introductions are out of the way, how about we enjoy dinner?" _Harry almost blinked and missed the food suddenly appearing on the table with a 'swoosh' like when he was travelling with Slenderman. The food that night was largely stew, bread, mashed potatoes, and a few vegetables. Harry looked in front of him and found a medium sized soup bowl of soup broth.

Eyeless Jack grabbed his attention. "Harry, you can try some of the things on the table, just don't go overboard, okay?"

Harry nodded, wide-eyed at everything. He hesitantly picked up the tongs, expecting to be told off or told 'no' at any minute. He quickly picked up three green beans, a teaspoon-full of mashed potatoes, and the smallest roll of bread he could find.

Laughing Jack raised an eyebrow. "Hey, kid, when he said don't go overboard, he didn't mean starve yourself."

Harry's eyes widened even further. "You mean, I can have more?"

Laughing Jack, true to his name, laughed before replying. "What is it with you British kids and food? You and Oliver Twist seem to ask the same questions about "havin' some more, please". Hehehehe." Harry blinked and the clown was suddenly wearing a soot-covered flat cap and suspenders and adopted a high-pitched voice with a cockney accent with the quote.

When he blinked again, the cap and outfit was gone. Harry shook off the confusion and picked up a slightly larger portion of mashed potatoes and a few more beans. He was savoring each bite of the meal and the bowl of soup. This didn't go unnoticed by the others at the table.

Throughout the meal, Harry watched everyone else. While Tim, Brian, and Sally ate normally, the others were different. Laughing Jack would have eaten normally if it weren't for the fact that he was eating something very, very red with some candies and candy floss on the side.

Toby took down his mouth guard and Harry stared at the large gash in his cheek exposing his teeth before he realized it was impolite. He snatched a few other glances and saw he'd tend to hang his head to one side (the side with the cheek still intact) to chew and drink.

Jeff ate like a normal person. Despite appearances, he somehow managed to eat and drink without it dribbling out the carved smile. Though, Harry noticed when he opened his jaw to take a bite, the rest of his carving opened up as well so it actually went all the way through. He guessed that Jeff had enough cheek to hold food whereas Toby didn't.

Eyeless Jack was fairly normal, he even smiled when he saw Harry looking around. Though Harry was slightly green at the sight of various squishy, red organs on his plate. He watched with fascinated horror as Jack bit through a kidney like it was a piece of bread. Thinking back, he wondered if the "dissections" hobby he mentioned lead to ingredients for his "cooking" hobby.

Slenderman was harder. He was right next to the entity, but he kept trying to sneak glances whenever the faceless entity brought a forkful of food to his mouth. Harry managed to glimpse the fork with some potatoes on it going towards the face which promptly disappeared when it got close to where the mouth would have been on a normal human before Slenderman's jaw moved up and down without the sounds of chewing.

Harry promised himself he'd figure out how the entity did that.

When they finished. Slenderman raised his hand to call for silence. "_Now, I want to raise the matter of letting young Harry stay with us-_"

Harry's brain went into paranoid overdrive. "Please, sir! I won't be a bother! I-I can cook and clean and garden and do a few minor repairs around the mansion! You won't need to give me a full room, sir! I can do almost any chore! I-I can-!"

"_Harry, Harry, calm down. No one's asking you to take up those responsibilities_."

Jeff grinned. "Well, if he's offering, then I think I can take one for the team and give him my chores list for the week."

Ben snickered. "Mine too."

Their smiles faltered when they saw Harry frantically nodding. "Done!"

"_Child, no one will make you do them_." He sent an eyeless "look" to the pale teenager and the computer virus. "_No one_."

He returned his attention to the fearful seven year old. "_Why do you feel you need to do such things, Harry?_"

"So I can earn my keep, sir."

"_You don't need these "sir" formalities, child. But what do you mean, 'earn your keep'?_"

"So I won't be a burden." Harry replied meekly.

"_Harry, you are not a burden. Who tells you that?_" Slenderman immediately regretted the question as he answered it himself long before the child did.

"My Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did. They said they shouldn't have to waste money on me. They said I was a worthless freak and that I had to earn my keep to stay."

Harry was suddenly aware of the absolute silence around the table. Looking about, a few had their forks halfway to their mouths, the rest he could see questions buzzing in their heads. No one around the table was smiling (save for Jeff, but for what it's worth, his permanent smile was slightly downturned). Everyone was processing what he just said..

Sally was the first to snap out of it and smiled at Harry and reached for his hand. He had to resist the instinct to flinch away. "No one thinks you're a freak, Harry. You can stay all you like."

Laughing Jack's smile also returned in full force. "Yeah, maybe you can help me set up some pranks on Jeff, here."

"Hey!"

The Rake grinned. "And if Slendy thinks you've got potential, we'll even let you go on a few… excursions with us. Hehehehe" Harry's arm erupted in goosebumps at the low chuckle. He decided to watch himself around The Rake.

"_Well, be that as it may, I think it is time for everyone to go to bed. It's late and young Harry is still on European time._"

Harry almost forgot all about his fatigue in the excitement of that night, but it came back full force when Slenderman mentioned sleep and he yawned despite his efforts against it.

Brian offered to take the plates to the kitchen and wash up, so the others made their way to the foyer. They were just about to ascend the stairs when Sally noticed Harry wasn't with them. She heard a slight scuffle from the staircase and leaned over to see the door click closed.

"Harry?" Everyone stopped, suddenly aware that their newest guest wasn't with them.

Sally made her way to the door and opened it. She was confused when she didn't see him until she looked down. He was lying on the cold cement floor using a mop head for a pillow and a few threadbare blankets they tossed in there for storage. She shuddered as a large spider crawled quickly over the fabric draped over him.

The others edged around and looked confusedly at what they were seeing. Jeff spoke first. "Uh… what are you doing?"

Harry looked back at them. "I'm going to bed. This is where I slept at the Dursleys. Though this one is much warmer." He smiled genuinely before settling back and nonchalantly blowing a black widow spider away that crawled a bit too close to his head.

He failed to notice everyone was completely stunned at this and remained fixed where they were until Slenderman, who assessed the situation, maneuvered towards the cupboard.

"_Harry. You won't have to sleep in the cupboard anymore. Come, we already have a guest room prepared for you_."

Harry, stood up from his makeshift bed and followed Slenderman up the stairs, leaving the rest still standing in stunned silence. The faceless man led him to a room in one of the hallways. He let Harry look in.

By most of society's standards, it wasn't much. It had a simple, wooden bed with a standard box spring mattress and a stormy-blue comforter. A desk was up against the window. A single light fixture provided an overhead light. A dresser was pushed against the wall and a mirror hung next to it on the simple gray-white walls. Other than that, there was no decoration, no color, nor anything really terribly interesting for the average seven year old.

Harry was awestruck. "T-this is all for me?" he whispered.

Slenderman nodded and watched as Harry reverently walked into the room, drinking in the space and sights. He laid his upper torso on the bed and ran his hands across the comforter, feeling the softness.

He looked back at Slenderman and, to the surprise of the entity, ran straight to him and hugged him around the area of his legs that he could reach. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

Slenderman regained himself and adjusted so he could give a slightly awkward hug in return. "_You're welcome, child. I'm afraid we don't have any pajamas for you at the moment, but we can find some shorts and an old T-shirt from BEN, perhaps. He's the smallest male in the manor and I doubt you'd want one of Sally's dresses."_

Harry giggled and nodded. Slenderman left and soon returned with some black sports shorts with an elastic pull-string and a green shirt with a golden Triforce on it.

Slenderman left Harry to change and get ready for bed. He closed the door and turned down the hallway. He was stopped by a group of angry, worried, and confused housemates. Jeff, per usual, was the first to speak. "Slendy, what's the whole truth about him?"

Slenderman sighed. Knowing this group, he'd probably need the straightjackets to ensure they did not swim to Surrey themselves to throttle the family in their sleep.

* * *

Harry jumped into the bed and put the warm comforter over him. He was amazed at how soft and comfortable it was. He could feel the adrenaline and excitement ebbing away to fatigue. He thought back to all of the firsts of today.

First time out of his cupboard at night.

First travel to another country.

First friend.

First time in another person's room.

First medical treatment.

First sweet given, even though he still had it in his other pants' pocket.

First dinner with lots of food that he could eat as well.

First joke he laughed with.

First time someone waved back.

First time in a bed.

First time being hugged.

First time someone _cared_.

He wiggled himself further into the sheets and blanket and smiled as he was sedated to the silence and paralysis of the nocturnal haven.

* * *

**AN: Yes, that was a reference to the Russian Sleep Experiment at the end there.**

**I own none of the pastas and, of course, Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. **

**One of the portraits in the family room is actually inspired by Disney's Haunted Mansion, specifically the Portrait of Dorian Gray in the foyer to the hanging-man elevator.**

**If my UK grade-schooler knowledge of the USA is incorrect, British viewers, I'm sorry. I was raised in American elementary school so I don't really know what a primary school's history lesson encompasses about America besides probably the basics. (And sorry, no, I'm not in New York the state. It was just a good place with lots of creepy forested area in the rural areas out west).**

**I understand most of the pastas don't seem terribly murderous, but we'll add that in soon. I just wanted basic introductions out of the way. Plus, I had fun writing this chapter.**

**I hope you enjoyed**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

**P.S. Slendy mentioned how not all of the Pastas made it downstairs, meaning there are more that are either out on business or more that are just hanging around. Hint hint: I'm only one CreepyPasta fan, I don't know them all. Any suggestions on characters is always welcome (also, send in their pasta title if you can. It helps me understand them better).**

**P.P.S. No ships at the moment. Sorry, but Sally doesn't "age", so it won't be Harry x Sally. She's just a friend.**

* * *

**-Russian Sleep Experiment: "The Russian Sleep Experiment" by unknown**

**-BEN: "BEN DROWNED" by Jadusable**

**-Sally: "Play with Me" by Kiki-Hyuuga (deviantart-based)**

**-Jeff: "Jeff the Killer" by Snuffbomb**

**-E.J.: "Eyeless Jack" by Snuffbomb**

**-L.J.: "Laughing Jack" by Snuffbomb**

**-The Rake: "The Rake" by unknown**

**-Ticci Toby: "Ticci Toby" by Kastoway (deviantart-based)**

**-Masky and Hoodie: MarbleHornet videos: by Marblehornets (youtube-based)**

**-Smile .jpg: no official pasta: by unknown (email chain mail)**

**-Trenderman, Offenderman, Splendorman: The result of fans making up popular parodies of Slenderman on Deviantart and Tumblr**


	3. Slenderman's Children

**I own nothing, least of all Harry Potter.**

**Trigger warnings: Harry Potter child abuse.**

**-Crow**

* * *

Slenderman got out of bed early the next morning. He still had on his custom-made Extra-Long, black pajamas. As a personal touch, he even had little, white operator symbols on the pants.

It was the little things, sometimes.

He yawned… or… something… before stretching out a few knots in his tentacles and heading down to the lower level.

Last night had gone almost exactly how he'd predicted.

* * *

*Flashback*

Slenderman led the group down to the main living room where he'd asked Harry to stay shortly after arriving back at the house. Seeing everyone present at dinner sitting or handstanding upside down (Laughing Jack) in one of the chairs and waiting expectantly, he began his story.

"_I had my suspicions a few months prior. I was doing a few international visits for old times' sake out in the Black Forests of Germany. No one to report there, so I just wandered around Europe briefly while I was in the area._

"_I had decided to stop in Britain to restock on some tea for the pantry. On my search for a decent tea shop, I happened across an elementary school. Naturally, I looked everyone over as I was passing by, just scanning the surface emotions. There was petulant anger, bubbling happiness, spoilt discontent, irrational fear; the usual for most children._

"_That's when I sensed that soul-crushing sadness. Normally children feel mild levels of sadness over trifle things, and it reflects in their emotional outputs, but this one screamed volumes of abuse._

"_I quickly found the source to be young Harry. He was hiding behind one of the school dumpsters as his fellow peers played, completely unaware that he even existed. I questioned it, but continued to watch for a moment. After some time, my patience was rewarded… though I use that term scathingly._

"_A gang of five children around Harry's age were deliberately seeking him out. Apparently, he hides behind the dumpster often. They found him and chased him across the playground. There were no monitors, no teachers, not even a single friend to stand up for young Harry._

"_I watched as he was beaten black and blue by the children, whose ring leader I discovered to be none other than Harry's own cousin. What's worse, evidently they left him in that sorry state until well after the bell rang. Only then did Harry regain consciousness… yes, he was beaten unconscious. I did not realize until he had failed to move for five minutes._

"_Taking my usual measures, I observed him and his class. The teacher was a horrible, old crone. She obviously saw his bruises and distress and deliberately ignored them focusing on berating him for arriving late to class. Upon stalking the teacher, I discovered her views on the subject of bullying to be largely that it 'is none of her concern what those monsters do to each other'._

"_What's more, she deliberately asked them questions I know were well beyond the material, refused to teach them anything, and punished them with techniques ranging from time-outs to slaps to a dunce cap… yes, she had a dunce cap and a corner._

"_Unfortunately, it seemed Harry would regularly receive all three. I'm not sure if Little Winging is just the honey pot for vitriol-spitting furies, but it seems as though almost every mother, aunt, teacher, even some teenaged daughters were either indifferent to children other than their own, horrendous gossips, or took great delight in looking down upon Harry Potter, specifically, as the title-less ragamuffin._

"_Anyway, I followed the young boy for the next few months. I was not seen, but I had to abide by the Code. What I saw was enough to convince me._"

He fell silent, reflecting on everything. The others' eyes bore into his blank face until he relented.

"_As you can probably surmise, he was kept in a cupboard and regularly denied meals. I saw a "good day" for him in terms of meals and his meal consisted of some bread with a single slice of slightly off ham._

"_His wardrobe was entirely cast-offs from his cousin all of which were excessively large and could barely keep him warm in the winter. I believe the shoes he has on are some a neighbor threw out on account of the flaps and support being destroyed by their own child._

"_The Uncle and Aunt were not physically abusive, or at least as far as I could see. In the span of those few months, they did slap him excessively. The Uncle was excessively rough in his handling, but could not hold up as a cause of "relocation-worthy physical abuse". In my opinion, we need to update the Code beyond the 18th century's standards of parenting._

"_His average day consisted of hours upon hours of work, chores, and tasks. If he did not finish, which was usual as the task list exceeded the available hours in a day, he would be slapped and refused food until the next day where the process was, more often than not, repeated._"

Jeff and BEN both shifted uncomfortably after hearing that. They understood how the joke of having him do their chores in exchange to live there was honestly interpreted as an actual deal in the mind of Harry.

"_His cousin Dudley, on the other hand, is a spoilt, aggressive, gluttonous pig. His mother dotes on him constantly, believing he can do no wrong even after report cards say otherwise. His father encourages his aggression because he believes it 'builds character' for some God-foresaken school called "Smeltings" where that bloated walrus apparently went to and wants his son to as well._

"_The main source of his aggression is, naturally, Harry. I believe it may be some projection by the parents of the beatings they wish they could legally inflict. I'm not sure as to why they even encourage this treatment to begin with, but any theory is either terrifying if true or implausible if they still retain the classification of "human"._

"_This 'Dudley' boy apparently drives away any other children from Harry by bullying them if they so much as look at our new guest. He eats so many sweets and greasy foods that he's grown grotesquely fat. When compared to Harry, you can see the difference in treatment already._

"_While Harry cooks the meals they eat, he gets none. I actually watched him pick scraps from their garbage pail to feed himself. I've even seen him scamper around the neighborhood to pick out of his neighbors' bins as well while the Dursleys believe he is merely taking the trash to the curb._

"_I cannot tell how much it wrenched my… heart, to watch the boy's face light up in absolute, sheer joy at discovering a neighbor had thrown away a somewhat-bruised, but perfectly edible apple. He ate it right then and there, core and all."_

The other guests of the Mansion were wide-eyed at the faceless entity. Most had speculated that Slendy didn't even have the organ in question. Those who had been there longer knew that he almost never brought it up as the organ wasn't biologically a "heart" in the first place. For this to happen, it must have been something awful.

"_I continued to watch, by that time I knew that at the end of the waiting period I would have to relocate him. Unfortunately, plans were… moved ahead._

"_Earlier today… er, yesterday in London Time, I suppose, Harry got in trouble for something that was by no means his fault. Unfortunately, by obligation of the institution, the principal had no choice but to inform Mrs. Petunia Dursley, Harry's Aunt, of the incident._

"_She later burnt his hand on the open oven element after making him cook their dinner. When she was done, her despicable husband came home in a temper and beat Harry to the point you see him now, including breaking his arm._"

He glanced up from his tale and saw the signs of tension and anger in everyone's eyes. Jeff already had out "Nellie" (one of his knives) and fingered it contemplatively. Toby was twitching erratically and rapidly. Sally's blood was flowing to the point where it actually overcame whatever force kept it in check and it dripped onto the floor. Ben was slightly glitching as his arms and the side of his face kept erratically breaking into code or random blocks of color, indicative of the virus's wrath.

He could sense their bloodlust and their morbid desire for more fuel for their hate. He sighed and continued.

"_I decided to make my move that night. I left the house to set up a stable, long-distance shadow-walk at the nearby park. When I had returned, I fully expected Harry to be in the hospital having his arm seen to. I had suspected- no, hoped that they would realize the necessity of discretion and take him to the ER for his arm, claiming he fell from a tree or some such nonsense._

"_I took my stance in their foyer, awaiting their arrival. I had no idea how long it would take human doctors to heal a bone, so I assumed their tardiness was the result of the procedure. In retrospect, it was so utterly careless of me not to do a full sweep of the house._

"_I was so focused on awaiting the car to return, I had no idea how much time had passed. I only thought to sense around when I heard a loud sneeze from the cupboard._

"_Yes, Jack. They left him in the cupboard. With a broken arm, none-the-less. Please stop growling._

"_I had to get him out of there, but I had to abide by the Code. I simply unlatched his door and awaited the moment when he would leave of his own volition. It took some time, but eventually he made his way out and managed some minor first aid on himself._

"_Unfortunately, that oaf of an uncle found him and almost stopped him. Thankfully, the lead pipe he used as a splint helped in his escape along with breaking his uncle's shin, I believe._" Several of his associates grinned darkly at the only partially served justice.

"_After he left, I took it as his 'willing departure' and it allowed me to take him with me._

"_And that is the story."_

By now, every one of his associates was either unconsciously caressing a knife or scalpel or dragging their claws through his furniture as fists clenched on the arm rests. He allowed about 30 seconds for them to digest this information before speaking.

"_Now, I understand your anger. However, we cannot take action at the moment. We must first take care of young Harry to ensure he is alright. BEN, could you please contact Funnymouth for us? Eyeless Jack recommends him for bone-related trauma."_

The computer virus gave a stiff nod, still scowling at the mental images Slendy portrayed.

"_Now, I want no trouble for Harry while he is here. I doubt many memories of the United Kingdom are pleasant, so it may be best that we don't ask questions and help him adjust to life here in America."_

He got up before pausing with one more thought. "_And I will not allow you to go murder the Durlseys tonight._"

Based upon the uproar it caused, he suspected he would need the straightjackets again.

*flashback over*

* * *

Slenderman sighed as he shuffled down the hall in his black slippers. Surprisingly, Jeff was the calmer one despite his… aggressive nature. Eyeless Jack went to his lab, probably to eviscerate some corpses to relieve anger. He was forced to put Toby in the "Time Out" room after medicating him.

In retrospect, he should have anticipated that Toby, with his past relationship with his father, would react strongly to abusive parental-figures.

However, they could not violate the Code by simply murdering the Aunt and Uncle and having the child vanish. It would cause too many questions. Questions which the departments of the Underrealm would not be pleased to answer.

However, he assured himself that they would get their just desserts in time.

As he descended the stairs, he smelled bacon and pancakes… don't ask how.

Coming to the kitchen, he found it empty save for his newest ward standing on a step-stool in front of the stove crackling dangerously with bubbling fat from the bacon. The kitchen was largely absent of the floury explosion from whenever one of his wards or associates cooks (save for Eyeless Jack) and any mess was comfortably compacted on the single counter.

"_Harry?_" He asked. The small seven-year-old turned around nervously, fiddling with the spatula and tongs in his hands.

"Oh, sorry Mr. Slenderman. I haven't finished it yet."

"_Finished?_"

"Breakfast, sir." He replied casually. Slenderman 'frowned' as he remembered that was one of the expectations of the Dursleys.

"_Harry, we appreciate the sentiment and I'm sure everyone will enjoy your cooking, but don't feel you are in any way required to cook meals in this house._" Slenderman said.

"Oh, it's alright sir. I rather enjoy cooking." He replied happily.

Slenderman 'smiled'. "_Well, I'm sure Eyeless Jack will enjoy some company in his hobby. Though, for now I would recommend you not over-exert yourself or your arm._"

Harry nodded and put the finished pancakes on a platter along with the bacon before placing them on the dining room table.

Slenderman had Harry sit next to him again and prepared some light fruit and juice along with a plain pancake to stay on Eyeless Jack's suggested regimen of low-fat foods, though he gave Harry one of the less fatty, least-oily bacons strips.

A few minutes later, Jeff walked in with his eyemask still askew on top of his head. Still half asleep, he stumbled around mumbling. "Whoss cookin' breakfast, Slendy?"

"_Harry did. Be sure to thank him_."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks kid." He said before picking up a pancake and dowsing it in syrup.

Sure enough, drawn to the promise of food, the others he'd met started down the stairs as well. Along with a few others Harry hadn't met last night.

Slendy introduced him to caretaker Akako Himura who apparently was visiting, but worked in a school out in Japan. The woman wore an interesting black dress made out of a shimmery material with some detailed embroidery of red swirls. The first things he noticed, though, was the fact that she seemed like she was always smiling, how her head was tilted to the side at an odd angle (along with a sharp bend in her neck), and how one of her eyes was completely gone but she still functioned like normal. "Konichiwa, Harry. Do you know any games?"

Harry was a bit unsettled, but replied with a "no".

She was genuinely surprised and promised to teach him a game her children absolutely loved called "Kagome kagome".

Another… being that came down for breakfast was this large humanoid…thing. It had a sekeletally thin black body with a scraggly mane of black fur around its head which was hidden behind what Harry assumed was some kind of bird-like mask out of sewn-together bits of flesh. Though he saw it stand up and walk to get through doorways, it tended to get around crouched on all fours. Slendy explained it was called the Seed Eater. Harry noticed how the Seed Eater would eye him almost like The Rake did last night. The being didn't go for the breakfast prepared and instead took out some raw meat from an ice box in the kitchen. He shivered as it ate the bloody hunk raw.

Sally was ecstatic when she came down and saw the pancakes and, after thanking Harry, immediately put some strawberries and powdered sugar on hers. Laughing Jack followed suit, except he used substantially more sugar, strawberries, blackberries, butterscotch, peppermint, caramel, and chocolate chips all drowned in a bottle of high fructose corn syrup.

Harry never had much of a sweet tooth, but he shuddered at the sight of the mountain of diabetes for any normal human being.

Eyeless Jack came up from his basement with Toby tagging along. Harry was confused as the still-drug-drowsy Toby mumbled and slurred about pancakes, waffles, and penguins. Slenderman was just relieved he was considerably calmer than last night.

During breakfast, Slenderman remembered something and turned to address Harry. "_Harry, I am a strong proponent of learning. As such, I encourage all of my wards to attain at least some degree of education. You are no exception._

"_I'll write up a syllabus and course plan for you by tomorrow. Among these are some… unusual courses such as anatomy, psychology, and… er, 'physical education' so to speak."_ Well, learning self defense and how to effectively stab someone counted as "physical" at least.

Harry nodded. He was okay with school if it meant he could stay away from the Dursleys. He'd actually enjoyed most of what he learned in primary school if he took out the mean teachers and Dudley's gang.

"_And Harry, I know you hold back to have lower marks than your grievously stupid cousin. You will not be punished for having good marks. In fact, I often reward for such marks, so I want you to do your best. Is that understood?"_

"Yes, sir."

"_Very well. Sally, if you want, you may play with Harry in the forest today. Just be back before sunset._"

Sally "yay"ed happily and led Harry outside, leaving Sammy the Bear in her seat to "keep him clean" despite the stuffed animal being coated in a permanent layer of mud.

Slenderman watched them go out and started cleaning up breakfast plates as he noticed Eyeless Jack approach him.

"Slenderman, I need to speak with you."

* * *

Harry ran after Sally as she ran out the front door. She had found him a ratty (and bloody) jacket of hers that was a dark green color without any frills. He was grateful that she had the pretty much unisex jacket and wore it despite the crusted blood on it. It was a lot better than walking around in the autumn chill.

Harry glanced back and, in the light, saw the house was actually a very large three-story mansion with the walls made of some grey wood shingles and darker grey roof shingles. The wrap-around porch led to a gazebo structure in the back and a few turrets were set in the sides of the manor. He saw a few attic spaces and resolved to ask Sally sometime later to show him around up there if it was alright.

The area around the house seemed perpetually grey. Harry suspected it was from the occupants'… peculiarities encouraging the creepy atmosphere. The sky was white/gray with overcast which molded into a dense, white fog that enveloped the surrounding forest. Harry enjoyed the effect as the white made the tall, straight, black tree trunks stand out more even though he could only see 20 feet of the forest before the fog consumed it. He particularly enjoyed watching the tendrils of mist creep around the forest floor and glide along the dirt and sparse grass.

The ghostly girl led him along the main road that connected to normal civilization. She explained how it was where they got their deliveries and mail. Harry was amazed that they were actually not ten minutes away from a nearby town that was completely oblivious to the existence of the manor. Sally explained that it was mostly just a ghost story to the locals to the point where it was just a fun tourist trap idea.

"Though we do have these shields put up." She added thoughtfully. Harry tilted his head. "Shields?"

"Yeah, they're invisible shields that kill anything we don't want coming through, like a force field. It lets in the pizza delivery guys, though." She snickered. "Jeff and BEN would probably throw a fit if they had to walk all the way to the town for that stuff." Harry nodded, looking around and trying to see if he could find these shields. Sally bounded into the foggy woods and shouted back. "C'mon! There's a fairy ring of mushrooms I found!"

Harry ran after her as she showed him the secret places of the forest and enjoyed the make-believe and improvised games as their giggling echoed in the fog.

* * *

Michelle O'Connor was excited. She'd heard about the tiny town in the rural west of New York and she couldn't wait to get there. Her boyfriend, Josh, and her other friends, Kaitlin and Mike, who shared her fascination in the paranormal, joined her on the vacation.

They toured the town and enjoyed the small-town feel of the place. They found a few shops that had figurines and books on the mythos surrounding the town; the most prominent figures being The Slenderman and his Children.

They got a brochure from their inn. It was hosted by the locals and was largely just an excuse to give a cool atmosphere for the re-telling of the mythos. They specifically offered one tour at 9 AM, 7 PM, and 10 PM. The first two had the densest amount of the almost permanent fog that rolled in from the forest and the 10 PM was just a popular nighttime horror excursion.

Michelle and Co. decided they'd aim for all three. The first one to get a lay-out of the forest track in the day, the second to see it at the twilight hours, and the last to see it at night as any horror fan would clamor to see.

They boarded the haybales in the back of the truck and listened to the woman droning on about the story.

Slenderman or The Slender Man was apparently a local apparition that had roots all the way back in German folk lore. It was a tall, faceless being that would stalk its victims silently until it either killed them, made them disappear, or drove them crazy. She told stories about how it had gained popularity on the internet after photographers caught pictures of it at a few local playgrounds, thus sparking the internet legend that brought Michelle there.

The horror enthusiasts were interested about the story of Slenderman's Children. Folk lore said that Slenderman stole children and either spirited them away or ate them. It was believed that those who were not eaten became his followers, some even after death.

The tour ended and their tour guide let them out near a shop sponsored by the tour. They sold everything from sketches to prints to figurines of the tall being in a suit surrounded by children who were either obviously dead and had expressionless, white masks hiding their faces. Josh was interested in a few wooden figurines of a disfigured, skeletal dog-person the owner claimed was called "The Rake". They also sold prints of UFO's, the Dover Demon, and Bigfoot with small replicas and humorous depictions of each.

They quietly agreed that it was just a local junk shop selling the usual "Aliens Abducted Me" T-shirts and mugs, but still bought a few nick-knacks for momentos.

To the humor of her friends, she bought a small necklace with the circle and X symbol on it along with a few creepy prints of Slenderman, The Rake, a black creature called Seedeater, and a Roswell crash site depiction to put up in her apartment.

They stuck around the town and their inn room until the sun had set pretty low in the sky.

Michelle eagerly dragged her friends back to the haybale truck for the evening adventure.

"Hello and welcome to- oh, not you people again." The story-teller monotoned. Michelle was honestly surprised they let this person deal with their town's main supply of income.

She supposed she could understand going crazy after constantly doing this job and telling the same story three times a day every day of the year, but she could at least ask for some atmosphere and enthusiasm. The first tour was more of a dull museum lecture tour rather than a horror story.

She fiddled with her new necklace as she listened to the story re-told to a new group of tourists who were eagerly snapping a few pictures of the evening fog darkening the forest around them.

To be honest, this was hardly worth the $5 in the first place. The only spark of anything interesting was a faint giggle she swore she heard echoing from the mist.

* * *

"Whelp, that was an absolute f*cking waste of money." Mike griped as they walked back to their inn as the sun set. "I mean, did you see that hag? She was putting me to _sleep_ with that lecture voice of hers. I paid for a bone-chilling horror story that was supposed to give me nightmares tonight, not a kiddy-ride that's no better in the afternoon than it is in the morning."

"Yeesh, we get it, Mike. Just shut up about it." Kaitlin sighed. "So the tour was a bust, at least we got some pretty wicked snapshots of that fog and Michelle got some stuff too."

"Yeah, I mean, look at- oh no!" She exclaimed looking around frantically. The others saw her checking her pockets, jacket, even her bra (to the confusion of the men). "I lost my necklace!"

Josh sighed. "So we'll get you another one."

"Oh, come on. The thing was like $15, I'm not just gonna let it go. It's probably in the forest."

Kaitlin grinned. "Oooh, four teenagers going in a scary wood at night reportedly haunted by the _Slenderman_. Wooooo."

Mike wasn't as amused. "Yeah, I can see the headlines tomorrow. 'Four Stupid Tourists Get Lost in that Damn Fog'. It's just not worth it, Michelle."

Michelle 'hmph'ed and started stalking away towards the treeline. She was always pretty headstrong, though she knew how to get her friends along with. She grinned as she heard three other footsteps following after her accompanied by mild panting and whiney voices.

"Come on! It's a necklace in that entire place! It's worse than the needle in the haystack!"

"I don't care, Josh. We'll be alright." She called back, not looking at him.

Soon, they made it to the start of the forest path and retraced their steps back into the forest.

* * *

"We're lost."

"No we're not."

"We're lost."

"I'm telling you I know where we are!"

"We're lost."

"SHUT UP, MIKE! WE ARE NOT LOST!"

Michelle glared daggers into her friend's neutral face as he silently dared her to admit that she had no f*cking clue where they were.

The headstrong girl looked around, hoping to see anything that resembled the path. The fog had long-since cleared up, but the forest was dark save for the white glow of the moon.

She'd long given up trying to find the damned necklace. Now it was just a priority of getting out of the cold and back to their comfy inn room.

Didn't that tree looked familiar?

* * *

Kaitlin was crying quietly now. She always did have a strained positivity in stressful situations. Even when they were friends in kindergarten, she was the first to cry about being lost. Frankly, Michelle almost felt like joining in. The boys were trudging along, both downtrodden, but had given up any taunting remarks long ago.

Every tree looked the same. Michelle couldn't deny it any longer. The forest floor was even covered in a low-hanging dense fog, so they could have walked across a path ages ago.

As she looked around, it was almost surreal; the pale moon illuminated the entire forest and a dense, white fog flowed off mini-cliffs and around trees like water. None of the tendrils left the surface the sea of fog created, which was only knee deep in every direction. It was beautiful… if she wasn't so desperate to get out of it.

She sat them down at some stumps nearby and assessed the situation.

One. They were completely lost.

Two. It was dark.

Three. They had no idea where they were.

Four. No one else had any idea where they were.

Five. It was hypothermia weather, so they'd probably freeze to death before starvation.

Michelle hung her head in her hands before involuntarily giving a quick, choked sob at the hopelessness of the situation. They were really just going to be stuck he-

"Michelle…"

She was broken out of her misery by Mike's frantic whisper. She looked at him and followed his eyes out into the forest.

There, backlit by the moon were two figures hiding behind the trees and watching the group. Michelle could make out some rushed whispering echoing ethereally around them. The tone said one was trying to convince the other of something while the other kept arguing against, but the whispering became muddled into something unintelligible carried through the fog.

Slowly, the smaller figure separated from the taller figure which was frantically whispering for the other to come back.

Through the silhouettes she could make out that the smaller figure approaching them was probably a boy and the other had a dress, signifying a girl. She could see the tension in the small boy, as though ready to spring back at a moment's notice.

He made his way until he was just a foot away from her. She could make out extremely pale skin, black hair, and probably the greenest eyes she'd ever seen behind some askew glasses. Her breath caught as she realized the boy was wearing a jacket that was crusted with blood.

Hearing a scuffle, she looked up to see the girl had moved out from behind her position. She could clearly make out a dirty, pink nightgown dress. The girl's green eyes shone like a cat's eyes and had a wary distrust of them. Michelle was horrified to be able to make out lines of crimson across her face.

The boy's arm moved, redirecting her attention. He raised up a small fist extended towards her and she caught a glint from the moonlight.

Her necklace.

She accepted it and gave a hushed "thank you". The boy nodded and began backing away back to join with the girl. As the distance grew, Michelle suddenly noticed a shadow that was not present beforehand. She followed it up to a tree that had suddenly appeared-

No.

Her heartbeat was frantic as she realized the "tree" was really the legs and torso of a very, _very_ tall man in a suit.

Without a face.

Her blood pounded against her temple and a small migraine started up behind her right eye. The figure was completely silent, but still had a foreboding miasma around him. She saw the shadows behind him seemingly coalesce into black tentacles silently writhing behind him.

The green-eyed boy looked up at the figure and said something she couldn't make out. The figure's wriggling appendages seemed to slow as it tilted its head to angle back and forth between them and the boy as though deliberating something.

The tentacles retreated into its back and it stood there along with the other two children, watching them-

The group heard a loud rumbling sound getting louder from behind them and all of them were inclined to turn and see what was approaching. It was the haybale truck with a new tour group for the 10 PM tour.

Michelle looked back quickly, but the children and the tall man were both gone.

Turning back, she heard a different tour guide address them.

"Hey, are you folks alright? You need a ride back?"

They nodded dumbly and started climbing onto the back of the truck. Michelle clutched the small necklace in her hand and looked back in the direction they came from.

As they rumbled away, she glanced back on the path and saw the small boy standing at the edge watching her leave. He saw her looking and waved. She smiled slightly and waved back before the small figure scampered back into the woods.

She and her friends made it back to the inn and they left the next day. By the weekend, they were joking how they'd hallucinated the entire thing and that they needed to ease off of the chilli fries and pizza, citing that junk food caused some pretty weird nightmares, so why not hallucinations.

Michelle never contributed to those stories. She would just rub her thumb over the small pendant charm, proving that they got it back somehow, and having the eerie feeling that they were terrifyingly close to living up to Mike's predicted "missing teenagers" newspaper report as well as ending up another casualty to the town's folklore tales.

She eventually married (to Josh) and had several children and eventual grandchildren as well. Each and every one heard the same story from her, though. The same one she'd tell until her dying day. One against doing foolhardy things like wandering in the forest at night among other things.

The story of The Slenderman and his Children.

* * *

**People in this chapter are purely fiction. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is completely coincidental and unintentional.**

**-Crow**

* * *

**-Seedeater: "Through the Trees" by unknown**

**-Akako and the Kagome Kids: "Kagome Kagome" by unknown**


	4. The Dursleys and the Devil's Deal

**AN: Remember: "Creativity not reality". I do not endorse any activities to be repeated outside of this work of fiction.**

**I own nothing, least of all Harry Potter.**

**Trigger warnings: Harry Potter child abuse.**

* * *

Slenderman shuddered as he felt that somewhere, somehow new stories were being told about him. He shook his head. _That hasn't happened since Germany_. He reminisced.

He'd gone after Sally and Harry after they failed to come back on time and found them returning a lost trinket to a local group of teenagers. The Code was rather lax in regards to sightings, particularly with small groups of teenagers and children, so he just let them go with a mild scare for good measure.

He brought them back to the manor and, after sternly telling them to follow their commitment next time, sent them to bed. He resolved to spend the next day taking Harry to the mall a few towns over under the guise of a Glamour. BEN expressed a reasonable desire that his own clothes be his own and Harry acquire some for himself.

The mall in question had some adequate clothes for cheaper prices. Jack informed him that Harry would experience a severe and sudden growth spurt within the next few months from the nutrients he was given and recommended not to buy more expensive clothing from a store with connections to the Underrealm for a few months when his growth would plateau.

Slenderman continued to clean up a few leftover plates and some dog toys Smile left lying around as he contemplated what Jack had told him earlier.

* * *

***flashback***

The eyeless doctor led Slenderman to a separate room in his laboratory. Inside was home-made laboratory-grade machines of Jack's own design. One of which was a rather detailed blood and tissue analyzer. Sure enough, Jack led the entity over to the computer and pulled up some documents from the machine.

"So, I took the blood sample Harry gave me and sent it through everything I could think of. Take a look."

He handed Slenderman multiple pages of gibberish, numbers, and charts. The ageless being read through them and nodded every few minutes.

Jack continued. "You know the kind of crowd we get, but I've never seen things like it. Those energy spikes in the red blood cells, some proteins I have no clue what they do, even the plasma has trace elements that shouldn't be in blood in the first place."

Slenderman nodded. "_To be quite frank, I suspected as much. During my time observing him I found him… unusual. Or at least similar to some others I've met in my long existence. Yes, they value their privacy and, as such, rely on memory modifications, illusions, and attention-redirection to keep themselves hidden from human society._"

"So, Harry's one of them?"

"_Indeed. If my suspicions are correct, the fact that he is 'one of them' is precisely why his so-called 'family' treated him with such animosity._"

"So is it safe to say he's not human?"

Slenderman gave the impression of smiling. "_No, I believe he is as human as they come. Not like The Rake, Seed Eater, or myself. However, I believe he has something… unique to him. More like Toby, Jeff, Sally, or yourself. Once human or still human, but something just makes them different from the rest of society._"

Jack raised an eyebrow over an empty socket. "So, is it something we should be wary of?"

"_I think… you'll find he will fit in just fine._"

***flashback end***

* * *

The next day dawned bright and early… elsewhere.

It was still just as foggy as yesterday and the perpetual overcast was still hanging low.

BEN got on his computer and quickly got to bluud .com and opened a hidden chatbox.

_ZeldasBoy1234: "Hey, sup?"_

_Funnymouth: "0)_(0"_

__ZeldasBoy1234_: "Can u get to Slendys?"_

_Funnymouth: "…"_

__ZeldasBoy1234_: "E.J. says it's a "transverse fracture". Needs u for it."_

_Funnymouth: "I like to lick the bluud."_

__ZeldasBoy1234_: "It's pizza night on 2nite if u want."_

_Funnymouth: "Sweet, I'll be over at 4."_

Ben closed his laptop and sighed. Sometimes Funnymouth was just a pain to translate, but of all the people in the house, he was probably the only one who knew what the demon-virus-thing was talking… er, typing about half the time.

The day rolled by without much. At 4 o' clock Ben was playing Call of Duty and sniping noobs at their spawn point when his laptop forced itself open. He paused and watched as the screen filled with code, glitched images, and static before coalescing into a thin, pale hand that reached out of the screen. The rest followed soon enough.

"Hey, man. Come on, Harry's downstairs."

* * *

Harry sat down in Eyeless Jack's lab again. This time, the eyeless doctor was accompanied by… someone? Something?

It was practically a skeleton with pale skin stretched across it. It didn't have any clothes, but didn't have any genitalia that Harry could identify. Its hands were very long and very bony. But the most notable thing was its face.

Harry started noticing the trend that these people's faces were the more notable features to them.

Its eyes were black, reflective orbs in its sockets. There was no hair on its head. Its nose was slightly hooked. But its mouth was the weirdest. Its jaw hung limply on its hinge to the skull. There were no teeth inside and its pointy, red tongue lolled out like a slug.

Jack introduced him. "Harry, this is Funnymouth. He's a lot better with bones and broken bones, so I asked him to come look at your arm."

"H-hello."

Funnymouth gurgled something unintelligible that caused its tongue to spasm and curl. Harry assumed it was a greeting. Mr. Funnymouth turned to E.J. and gurgled more. The eyeless doctor could apparently understand it.

"No, thank God. It's a transverse not compound. If it was compound I'd put him in surgery or even risk a local hospital."

*gurgle squelch*

"Safety comes before secrecy. You know that."

*guttural croaking*

"It seems like it's all still intact and I didn't need to reset anything, but so far I've just put a splint on it."

*glug croak*

"He actually did the first aid himself. He used some bandages to strap a lead pipe against it. It was quite effective."

*drawn out squelch*

"Well, not only effective at keeping his arm flat, but also effective at breaking his abusive uncle's tibia."

*squishy clucking sounds that were probably laughter*

"Well, I'll leave the expert opinion to you."

The croaking figure nodded in acknowledgement and lifted Harry's arm for closer examination. He removed the splint and used its slightly slimy fingers to pad around the area feeling asking some questions which Jack translated.

After some time, it got up and gurgled something to Jack who nodded seriously before turning to Harry.

"Okay, Harry, I'm not going to lie to you. This will hurt. Ready?"

Harry nodded nervously, sweat was already breaking out on his forehead and his stomach doing flip-flops. "On three."

"One… two… three!"

The internet figure compressed its hand around the broken area and Harry felt as though the bone underneath became extraordinarily hot and grew spikes from the inside-out. His vision quickly started dimming and the room swam around him like what he assumed a carnival carousel would be like. His ears were ringing loudly, but he could make out someone screaming… oh, wait. It was him.

The pain stopped as abruptly as it started. Harry's vision was still fuzzy despite his glasses still being on his face and the voice of Jack sounded like it was coming through his ears stuffed with cotton. He felt himself being shifted into a position where his knees were kept upwards and his head was against the observation table. Slowly, but surely, the darkness around his vision receded and Eyeless Jack's face swam into view.

"…ry?... arry?... Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Harry?"

The seven year old mumbled a response. Jack sighed in relief.

"It's okay, Harry. We pretty much expected that kind of response. Can you move your arm, please?"

Harry experimentally moved his left arm and gave a dazed and tired smile as it didn't hurt. "No pain?"

He nodded wearily and started getting up before Jack's hand pushed him lightly back down. "Harry, just stay there for a moment, okay? Let yourself get your bearings."

After a few minutes, Harry's head started clearing up and he turned to the eyeless medic. "So, how'd he do that?" He slurred.

Eyeless Jack smiled and tapped the side of his empty eye sockets with a pen before replying. "Magic, remember?"

* * *

That evening Jack announced that Harry was doing amazing at his recovery and was ready for some heavier meals.

Though Jack knew most normal humans would probably need at least a week or two of lighter meals before getting back to most of society's diet, Harry's physical after the bone treatment showed he'd gained a small bit of weight, got a lot more color to his face, and all around was recovering remarkably from his malnutrition from only two days.

Once more, he cursed the Dursleys to suffer.

As a celebration for Harry's ability to enjoy food, the tenants all agreed to let Harry pick the toppings of the pizzas that night. When Harry admitted he'd never had pizza, it was unanimously decided to get a couple pizzas with every topping available spread out among the pizzas. Jeff was the one to phone in the order (after all, Slendy has no mouth) and the order came about thirty minutes later.

Harry was actually the one closest to the door when it rang, so he volunteered to go pay the delivery guy. He opened the door and came face to face with a guy in his mid-to-late teens wearing some piercings holding a stack of pizza boxes with his scooter parked a few feet away.

"Wow, weird place you got. I heard from other guys who normally deliver here, but I never covered the route down here before. Okay, so that's eight medium pizzas; three half plain, half pepperoni; two all sausage; one half pepper, half onion; one half mushroom, half black olive; and one half pineapple, half margarita-style. That'll come to $48 even, little man."

He brought the boxes into the house and placed them on the foyer table for Harry, anticipating they'd be too heavy for the seven year old. Harry gratefully handed him the fifty… "dollar bill" Slendy gave him. The delivery guy pulled out two "one dollar bills" from a fanny pack and handed them over as change. He was turning around to leave, when Harry spoke.

"Um, excuse me, sir, but what's it like at your job?" He asked curious.

"Woah, a little British dude! Nice! Uh, let's see. There's not really too much that goes on at my job. I mean, when I'm not delivering I'm helping make the pizzas or cleaning up around the party room. Uh… oh, well I'm actually taking on a new job tonight. I just got hired as a part-time security guard for the graveyard shift."

"Graveyard shift?"

"Yeah, from midnight to six in the morning. My manager agreed that I could give it a whirl for the next five days. Six if I want the bonus. 'Far as I'm concerned, it's pretty easy money. All I do is sit in the office watching over the empty restaurant. The only issues are those pretty creepy animatronics they got there. Well, I need to head home to get rested up for it. See ya."

He walked away before remembering to give the slogan. "And thanks for buying Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

Harry watched as the teen scootered away back to the pizzeria before closing the door. That night, Slendy cut up a small hunk of each flavor of pizza, making sure to get at least some of the toppings on each sample. Harry quickly decided that pepperoni was his favorite (leaving poor Laughing Jack to bemoan why no one else ever liked pineapple on theirs).

They ate and Sally offered to let him in on a board game before bed, which Akako readily agreed. In the end, they agreed to play a shortened version of risk (to which Jeff gleefully added colorful commentary to the backstories of any unfortunate survivors to the battles that took place).

At 9:30, Slendy told them to go to bed and went upstairs to retire himself.

BEN, Jeff, Eyeless Jack, and Toby all stuck around the parlor room as everyone else filtered out to either go to sleep or get on with their nocturnal life. When they were sure they were alone, BEN closed the door and turned to the other three.

"Okay, so what do we do about the Dursleys?" He asked without prelude.

Jack growled. "I say we rip out their intestines and use them to skip rope… with them still conscious of course."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Jack, you know how the Underrealm would react to something like that. They'd tan our asses before we'd be able to have any fun with it. Also, doesn't that seem like more an L.J. thing?"

Jack scoffed. "You know, sometimes I enjoy messy killing too. It's not just that freaking clown that has all the fun."

Jeff nodded in consent. BEN brought the conversation back. "Okay, so we all are in agreement that those bastards need to pay, right?"

Nods all around. Toby raised his hand to interrupt. "Uh, problem. The Code says we can't just cause the murders and interfere with the human society's justice system for Normies. It'll raise too many questions for the department if a Normie family gets their guts blended save for one kid who's gone missing."

BEN scowled. He hated the department's stupid rules. Then his long, elven ears twitched upwards in inspiration. "Well, what if we just… speed along the human justice system?"

"What did you have in mind?"

BEN whispered his plan to everyone all of whom were grinning maliciously by the end of it.

Jeff's permanent grin quirked. "Still have a problem guys. Slendy won't let us teleport around, he'll know if we use the Slender-port Terminals and like Hell he'd give us a lift. 'Oh, please, Mr. Slenderman, would you teleport us to Surry? Around the place where Harry lived. Oh, no sir we'd never hurt the Dursleys or go against your orders.' Blah blah blah." He stuck his tongue out, maturely.

Jack put his finger to his chin in thought. "So, we need a way of teleporting around without Slendy knowing. There's only one person I can think of with something remotely like that-"

He stopped as the faint smell of sulfur fumed around the room. Jeff murmured under his breath. "Speak of the devil…"

"_Oh? My ears are burning, something good I hope?_" Came a deep, reverberating voice from behind them.

The four conspirators turned quickly to find a lone figure sitting comfortably in one of Slendy's armchairs. It was almost completely black except for jagged, red mouth-like slits on its torso and limbs with two spikes on its shoulders curving upwards. Above the two curved spikes, its head floated in place. Two glowing-red eyes bored into them above another jagged, grinning mouth. Two, large, black horns stuck out the sides of its head and small, black spikes were scattered everywhere on its body.

Jack nodded to the figure mostly in just polite acknowledgement. "Zalgo."

All at once, the multitude of red slits curved upwards in grins. "_The one and only. Now, what do fine, upstanding members of the Underrealm such as yourselves need with lil' ole me?_" He chuckled darkly.

Toby spoke before anyone could stop him. "We need to get somewhere Slendy won't allow us."

Zalgo raised an eyebrow, but his mouth curved even wider. "_Oh? Disobeying the rules? That's hardly becoming of Proxies, now is it?_" His eyes glinted as he looked between the four.

"W-we need to go somewhere to get revenge for someone." BEN said.

The Demon of Madness let his grin slip in interest. "_Now why would Slendy not let someone get revenge? Hmm? What's so special about this case?_"

BEN began to explain. "It'd be too suspicious if they died suddenly, so we came up with another plan-"

"_I don't knooowww-_." The curved slits turned predatory. "_What exactly do you need?_"

BEN was cut off by Jack. "Wait a minute. You never want anything without something. What's in this for you?"

Zalgo chuckled. "_Why so distrustful? I'm just a diabolical being from the depths of the Underrealm, interested in a nice, friendly deal between comrades. Associates. Coworkers. Amigos. Right?_"

He was met by four blank stares.

"_Fair point. How 'bout for starters, you tell me what's so special about this place? _Then_ we can negotiate._"

The wards shared a glance before Jeff addressed the bemused demon. "Well, we got this kid, but Slendy decided to keep him on instead of just messing with his memories and putting him in a new home. We dunno why, though."

"_What's so interesting about him? What's his name?_"

"Again, we don't know. Slendy just said he might come in handy if we gave him a chance. And his name's Harry. Harry Potter."

For a brief second, the demon's eyes glowed like two charcoals, but none of the teens noticed and went on. "He was treated just awful by these relatives of his and there's no reason why! I mean, yeah, sometimes we get a kid with spider legs or tentacles or something and their families are bad, but Harry is just a kid! That's why we gotta get revenge on these bastards."

Zalgo steeped his spiny fingers in front of his mouth and "hmmed" thoughtfully. "_I'll tell you what; I'll give you what you need for this revenge scheme free of charge, BUT-_" He paused for emphasis. "_I want you to spread a little chaos while you're out there. Set some things on fire, kill a few late-night joggers, egg someone's windows, something like that. I'll even keep this a secret from Slendy granted you do one other thing for _me_._"

The wards warily motioned for him to continue. "_Do not tell Slenderman about this conversation."_

"Done!" Jeff asserted. He shrugged off Jack's growl and eyeless death-glare. "What? It's a good deal, we were already planning something like that, plus it's not like we'd tell Slendy in any place."

Zalgo maintained his steady grin. "_Then we are in agreement?_"

Four wards nodded, albeit reluctantly. "_Then what do you need_?"

Jack spoke. "First off, we need an untraceable long-distance phone call-"

* * *

"Hello, this is British Children's Welfare, this is Patricia speaking how may I help you?"

A fake-gruff voice sounded on the other end of the line. "Uh, yes, hello. I'm here to inform you of a possible abuse charge. I'd like someone to take a look at it."

Patricia raised an eyebrow. Clearly these people weren't British, but on the off-chance that it was an American who moved there, she had to listen. "Very well, any specifics."

"Yes. The boy's name is Harry Potter. He lives- or rather lived- with his Aunt and Uncle in Little Whinging, Surrey. You see, he ran away recently. I doubt his family notified the police when they found him gone."

Patricia frowned. She couldn't recall a "Harry Potter" on file. Then again, it was difficult to keep track of one child in an entire country of orphans and foster children.

Though, her frown increased when she pulled up some records and found school records for a "Harry Potter" in the Little Whinging area, but no medical records nor adoption or foster care papers. There was no notification of missing persons filed to the police. The school papers had a name and location attached, so she tried it out.

"Um, excuse me, sir. Could you tell me who his Aunt and Uncle are and where they live exactly?"

"Yes. Their names are Petunia and Vernon Dursley. They have a son, Harry's cousin, whose name is Dudley Dursley. And they live at Number 4 Privet Drive, ma'am."

She frowned. It all matched up. "Are there any specific reasons why you want to file abuse?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to take my word for it, but I suspect physical abuse, deliberate starvation, and child labor and safety violations."

Patricia nodded and arranged for the house in question to be searched by the local police department.

"Thank you for calling Mr…?"

"Oh, uh, Drowning. I mean, Downing. Benjamin Downing."

* * *

Jenny Smithson drove the squad car down the quaint street of Privet Drive. It seemed fairly standard. She would have hardly pegged any of these houses to be a place of child abuse… then again, you couldn't judge a book by its cover.

She was an officer on the force who took child abuse extremely seriously. Even if it was "just a suspicion" she'd agree to tag along even if she had to do it without pay on her own time. In her first year on the force, her department received a call from a concerned old woman that her neighbor's son was being horribly abused. At the time, the department needed more evidence to warrant a search or investigation. "Just a suspicion" was not enough back then.

As it turns out, the next week they were on a man-hunt for the father. Five days after calling, the elderly neighbor noticed the father hurriedly packing suitcases in the car and driving away that evening without his son. His wife had left him, so he lived alone with the boy and she called the police to alert them that the son was left alone.

When Jenny and her squad finally unlocked the door, they were horrified to discover obvious signs of abuse and child endangerment throughout the house. She was the one who stumbled into the son's room first. The father had taken his beatings too far and the poor kid died as a result.

Ever since, she took any tip or sign that a teacher, neighbor, or even random concerned citizen offered and led a search and investigation the next day.

That morning, she and her partner visited each house in normal clothes and a disguised cop car to ask some questions from the neighbors. Jenny really didn't like them. They seemed like the gossipy kind, so she kept the questions discreet and focused more on learning about Harry and the Dursleys.

The mothers were only too happy to gossip about Petunia's garden parties and how their children played with Dudley. She was shocked to see them physically sneer at the mention of Harry. She suspected the neighbors didn't care too much what happened to him. The fathers spoke highly of Vernon and Dudley as "upstanding men of society", but again "harrumphed" at the mention of Harry Potter, calling him "a lazy lay-about".

The children in those households seemed like generic spoilt bullies. Each one had the distinct impression of an animal; a rat, a crocodile, a monkey, a lizard, etc. They mentioned how much fun Dudley was and how they played with his toys frequently. They didn't say much about Harry other than he was a loner, though Jenny caught one boy, Piers Polkiss, calling him "freak" from a slip and didn't notice.

They continued interviewing a few others. A batty old cat-woman vehemently denied that Harry would be in any danger from his relatives, though her shifting eyes gave Jenny another opinion.

A few households had families who had recently moved in. Their stories were much different (along with the personalities). The mothers were polite and told how Petunia was very nice on the exterior, but how they got the impression she was constantly judging them. Some caught her looking around their living rooms when they invited her over and suspected she was looking for material to spread hateful gossip.

The fathers of these households admitted that Vernon was a very loud, in-your-face sort of man with a short temper and rather meaty hands. However, it was unanimously agreed that the boy, Dudley, was a spoilt, arrogant brat. They tried telling the school about how he bullied their children regularly, but the Dursleys had the other families (who collectively made up most of the PTA) in the palm of their hand. Incidentally, these same families were the ones whose children were Dudley's friends.

When asked about Harry, they learned that apparently he was orphaned when his parents died in a "supposed" car crash. They emphasized "supposed" because it was always a suspicious story that one-year-old Harry survived with only the scar. Plus, Petunia's stories of her sister were always spoken with such venom that they were likely embellished. Especially in regards to their being regular drunks.

The parents had only ever seen him going to and from school and doing frequent outdoor chores. On the other hand, they never seemed to remember if Dudley had ever been assigned a single chore.

Few of the children admitted to seeing him. Even fewer actually knew his name. He was like a rumor or a ghost to the neighborhood; someone who was seen occasionally and talked about, but there was never any "real" information about him. No one knew his favorite color. Any television shows he liked. Anywhere he'd ever gone.

They mostly just accepted him as the neighborhood ghost story.

They never really talked with him because his cousin was a bully who drove them away if he saw them with Harry. This just helped cement a case that Dudley was a spoilt bully which simultaneously eroded from the friends-of-the-Dursley's arguments of a nice, happy family (bar the one ragamuffin cousin).

Eventually, they agreed they had enough testaments from the neighbors and confronted the Dursleys themselves.

Getting out of the squad car, she noticed the grass and hedges had started coming undone. Just looking at the lawn she could tell it was used to frequent trims and being almost perfectly manicured. She'd peg that the lawns hadn't been properly cared for in about three days.

In the back of her mind, she made the connection how Harry frequently did the outdoor chores and, if the source was correct, ran away roughly three or four days ago.

The door was answered by a woman who looked more horse than human. She was flustered at their sudden appearance, but led her and her partner to the living room. Given that it was Saturday, her husband, Vernon, was still in the house. Jenny got the impression of a bloated walrus in a leg cast. When Vernon smiled at them, it reeked of forced cheerfulness.

They called down their son and, at first, Jenny was startled to think that a bipedal pig in a wig had just waddled its way down the stairs and into the room.

Then she realized it was their son.

"Mummy, my toys are all over the place still!" He whined. Jenny briefly twitched into a scowl before maintaining the neutral mask of an officer.

"Diddykins, please sit down. We have some rather nice company." Petunia said with artificial sweetness. If Jenny had to put an analogy to it; it was the high-fructose corn syrup of sweet voices. Disgustingly sweet and dripping with artificial chemicals.

"Why can't you go and clean it up? Why couldn't _he_ have cleaned it up before he left?! I hate it now that the frea-"

"Dudley! Please sit down." His mother exclaimed casting a few glances at the officers. Jenny's eyes narrowed. She was 99% sure he was about to say "freak" and connecting it with the Polkiss child's slip up, she had an idea who "he" was as well.

Vernon smiled falsely before adjusting in his chair to face the two officers. "Now, sir and madam, what can we do for you today?"

Her partner straightened before addressing him. "We're here because of a report that a one Harry Potter might be missing from this location. Do you have any information regarding him?"

A rather large vein on the elder Dursley male's head throbbed dangerously. "I suppose you know he lives here?"

Jenny smiled. "Well, we had a few sources, but thank you for confirming it."

The man went slightly pale before darkening to a red. His wife hurriedly started talking. "Yes. He was my sister's child. He was orphaned when he was a baby after they got in a drunk driving accident. She was always such a reckless woman." The horse-faced woman scowled. "Anyways, we got saddled with the boy shortly afterwards."

Jenny's partner raised his eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but we never received any adoption or foster care paperwork regarding him. Is there a reason for it?"

Petunia paled slightly. "I'm afraid it was rather sudden and given that we are family I did not think we were obligated to do so. However, it is widely known that he does live with us."

Jenny pursed her lips slightly. It reeked of something beyond that. Her partner also caught on, but kept his neutrality. "Well, we have a report that he has not been seen for the past few days and may have run away."

Vernon turned puce, but gave a stiff nod. "Yes, the ungrateful brat ran away about three days ago in the middle of the night. He was always a delinquent, mind you, but I caught him as he was trying to leave and he used a lead pipe- a lead pipe I tell you!- to break my shin. Afterwards he ran away and hasn't darkened our doorstep since."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't think to call the police?"

Vernon scowled. "We expected he'd be caught soon enough. I'm not keen on welcoming back a boy after that incident. If you want him in Juvenile Hall, take him." The last bit was said with an almost hopeful tone.

Jenny nodded, pretending to understand. "Well, can you take us to his room, then? It may be possible there are some things there that may give us some clues on how to track him."

She noticed Vernon and Petunia share a quick look before the wife smiled and got up. "I'll lead you straight there."

The son, who was largely bored of the conversation spoke up. "What are you going on about mummy? He doesn't-"

"Dudley, isn't your program on?" Petunia interrupted abruptly. The piggy boy's eyes widened in excitement and he waddled over to the television set. Her partner agreed to stay downstairs to keep an eye on the other two as Jenny followed the wife to the stairs. The sounds of some mindless cartoon drifted out of the living room at their heels.

The first thing Jenny noticed was picture upon picture upon picture of the smiling pig in a wig at every age and several in infancy. She could see he was always fat from the get-go and in several he was still sticky from the lollipop or ice cream remains in his hands. A few had the family as a whole.

Jenny took a brief look at the main portrait above the mantle. It showed Vernon in a blue suit grinning falsely. Petunia in an ugly, canary-yellow dress with a rather distasteful, yellow flowered hat neatly set on her head. Dudley looked like he was ready to scowl the second the camera was done and looked distinctly uncomfortable in a blue suit that matched his father's.

There was no Harry.

Her eyes widened slightly and she quickly looked over every picture again. Dudley. Fruit. Dudley. Dudley. Landscape. Dudley. Family. Dudley. Flower. Dudley. Dudley. Dudley.

No Harry.

She followed the wife up the stairs to the second story. She led her past her son's room (which she pointed out with great emphasis). It had top-of-the-line toys, a television set of his own, books gathering dust in the corner, and several expensive-looking video games all cluttered together.

The rake-thin woman led her past the master bedroom and straight to another bedroom in the back. This one was much smaller than the son's bedroom and she was quick to note that almost every single object in the room was broken. Somewhat violently.

Broken Transformers toys were lying next to shattered computer disks and a few broken toy cars. Some were expensive-looking action figures whose faces had been melted off. Probably by the magnifying glass with a broken lense lying just next to them. Many of the dusty volumes of books were collecting dust in the corner of the room. Some with destroyed covers and some loose pages lying around. A couple of toys looked like they had been gummed up with some form of candy or gum to the point that they were inoperable.

Petunia tutted as she watched the officer for a reaction. "Yes. Harry is a delinquent as my husband explained. He has this horribly violent tendency. He breaks so many of my Diddykins's toys that we just toss them to him. Any toys my dear Dudley accidentally breaks go to him as well. No sense in wasting money if the boy's just going to break it."

Jenny nodded in understanding, it would have made sense after all, but was still analyzing the room in the back of her mind. She took another look inside the room and noticed the bed in the corner had broken toys that were removed from the market almost six months ago for lead paint lying on the bed. Frowning at the likelihood that they'd feign ignorance if the fact that he had dangerous recalled toys brought up, she was about to leave when something clicked.

The recalled toys were six months old and stacked on the bed with toys that were popular as far back as a year ago. But the bed itself had some worn, old sheets and no comforter along with a pillow tossed in the corner like decoration. But what set off alarm bells was a thick layer of dust on the toys and bed itself.

The bed had never been slept in.

Looking around the room again, there was no space made out in the sea of broken toys for a seven-year-old to sleep in. This was a bedroom, but it seemed almost like a decoy bedroom to throw off the scent of things.

Something didn't make sense.

*gurgle*

Jenny blushed in embarrassment as she turned to a quizzical-looking Petunia. "I-I'm terribly sorry to intrude, ma'am, but may I use your loo?"

Damn. She really had to lay off the leftover Chinese food before jobs.

Petunia smiled her diabetes-sweet smile again. "Of course, my dear, please don't bother with the powder room downstairs, the upstairs one is just to the left."

Jenny thanked the woman and made her way to the white-tiled room. She sat doing her… business and let her eyes wander over the room briefly. The room was painfully sterile. The smell of disinfectant permeated the entire space, masking the horribly metallic smell of the deodorizer-

Metallic smell?

Jenny scrunched her nose. She looked around the bathroom closer and quietly finished up. As shameful as her mother's lectures may have been, she didn't flush to avoid the noise. She carefully crept around the bathroom taking a closer look at things.

There!

There were dark spots under some newly-bought decorative rugs that were staining the tiles underneath.

Dark red spots.

And the newly-bought rugs looked like they were bought specifically with those tough, red stains in mind.

She continued her search with renewed fervor. Checking the cabinet, she found a few spare bottles of shampoo, a few spare toilet paper rolls… and a first aid kit.

She brought it down carefully and opened the latch. Inside, it seemed ordinary, but several objects were "off". The roll of bandage and gauze was significantly smaller and the tubes of antibacterial gel looked almost empty.

She opened the battered booklet on first aid and came to a slightly crinkled page with a small thumbprint of blood on it. Her breath caught. The thumbprint was too small to be one of the adult Dursleys and far too skinny to be that of their oh-so-precious son. Plus, she doubted the son would ever go to the first aid kit on his own. More likely, he'd whine for his mommy to make the boo-boo go away.

Scanning the page, she saw it was instructions on how to make a make-shift arm splint. It detailed how, in the event that a medically approved splint was not available, a long, straight, strong object could be bandaged around the area of a broken bone to keep the arm from moving.

_He used a lead pipe- a lead pipe I tell you!- to break my shin._

The Uncle's words came floating back to her. A lead pipe was long, straight, and strong. It would do for a make-shift splint. Additionally, the massive amount of bandaging tape gone from the kit would support that it was used to keep the pipe in place.

Her throat constricted at the implications.

Somehow, this child had broken his arm.

Shuddering, she continued to search the bathroom quietly. Fearfully, she crouched down in front of the cabinets under the sink.

_Iron._

She froze. The metallic smell she first smelled on the toilet was emanating from inside the cupboard. She slowly opened the door and almost gagged at the sudden wave of the nauseating smell of rotting pus and dried blood. Peering inside made her heart sink even lower.

Once fluffy-white towels were red with splotches of dried blood and some off-yellow mucous-like substance caked in certain spots. As an officer who dealt with abuse, she'd seen plenty of dried pus before.

She quickly made her way back to the toilet in time for it to catch her vomit.

"Are you alright, dear?"

Jenny stiffened. That horrible woman was standing outside, listening to her the entire time. Thank God she was so silent as she looked around.

"Y-yes Mrs. Dursley. I-I'm afraid the- my lunch did not agree with me. Hehe. I'm terribly sorry for needing your loo." She said shakily.

"Oh, it's no trouble ma'am. Come out when you feel like it."

Jenny waited a moment to compose herself, then flushed her vomit and "business" and made a loud show of washing her hands in the sink. As she exited, she came face-to-face with Petunia. _Damn, nosy, old hag, she still didn't leave._

"Are you alright, dear? You seem rather… pale." Petunia fretted. Her eyes darted quickly to the bathroom. Specifically the cabinet where she'd stuffed the towels away. The garbage wasn't until Tuesday and they couldn't afford to have the bloody rags in their trash bin out in the open for that long.

"O-oh. It's quite alright. As I said, something didn't agree with me."

Petunia led her back downstairs where her husband was smiling scarily at her partner while telling a long-winded tale about business transactions in drill tips. She almost felt sorry for her bored-to-tears partner. She could see the relief cross his face as she appeared and he stood up hastily apologizing to the walrus-man and explaining something about a tight schedule.

Jenny gave a subtle hand signal to her partner that meant they needed backup and the tip was real. His eyes widened slightly, but he schooled himself and followed her to the foyer.

Jenny forced a smile at the despicable family. "Well, I suppose we will get right on looking for young Harry."

Petunia and Vernon sagged visibly with relief. "Then we wish you the _best_ of luck."

As they watched the family close the door Jenny's eyes strayed over to the stairs.

An awful lot of locks to put on a storage space under the stairs.

…

Locks…

…

Oh, God.

The door closed firmly and Jenny dragged her partner back to the squad car. She started driving away as casually as possible, watching the house and was unnerved to find the husband and wife watching her leave through their window like vultures.

As soon as they got a few blocks down, she radioed in.

"The tip was real. We need an immediate investigation. I repeat; an immediate arrest and investigation."

* * *

Within minutes, Petunia and a loudly objecting Vernon were being led to squad cars in handcuffs. Dudley was whining the entire way to his own, separate squad car destined for a waiting area for children.

Jenny led forensics to throughout the house. In addition to the lack of pictures on the first floor, they found a child-sized step stool in front of the stove along with child-sized fingerprints covering most of the kitchen utensils indicating frequent use.

She led them to the second floor and they confirmed the fingerprint in the booklet to be a match to the fingerprints on the utensils. A few minutes later, they later confirmed the prints did not belong to Petunia, Vernon, or Dudley.

But the main attraction was one she saved for last. She led them to the stairs in the foyer and pointed out the locks on the door. Removing the deadbolts, she was sickened.

Inside was a small child-sized mattress with multiple stains that smelled like age-old urine and feces. A shelf held some broken crayons and some broken toy soldiers reverently placed. It spoke volumes if the child prized a few broken toys as though on a pedestal.

The single-bulb was long-since removed and the socket was exposed and, as one member of forensics painfully found out, still live.

A small drawing was scrawled on a wooden support saying :"Harry's Room" in childish writing.

But what truly sealed it were the blood stains on the walls, floor, and mattress. Along with a tiny, bloody handprint on the door where it was pushed open.

Forensics confirmed (though they really didn't need to at this point) that the fingerprints were a direct match to the bathroom and kitchen appliances.

The police searched the entire area and brought out some dogs to try and sniff out a possible shallow grave. Forensics was hopeful that the lack of too much blood and possible first aid meant that the boy really did run away and did not meet a gruesome fate at the hands of his relatives.

The Durlseys vehemently denied murdering him, but admitted in the face of all of the evidence to have broken the boy's arm. They continued to insist that he ran away.

* * *

Jenny remained hopeful that evening as the evidence was processed. She was at her computer, finishing up any leads on Harry Potter, but coming up negative.

*ding*

She was startled out of the report she was writing by an email from an unknown sender. The subject line was "Harry Potter".

Cautiously, she opened it.

**Officer Smithson,**

**We are grateful that you took our tip seriously and those wretched people are behind bars. I just wanted to let you know that Harry Potter is safe.**

**He has received medical attention and we are in the process of finding appropriate psychological therapy as well. As you can imagine, the damage was rather extensive.**

**Attached are some photographs he allowed us to take when he was first attended to by our resident medic (for the time being, he will be known as Doctor E.J.). Please note the following diagnoses.**

**-Broken Ulna (transverse fracture)**

**-Mild to severe malnutrition**

**-Second-degree burns to the right hand (admits were forcefully inflicted)**

**-Multiple lacerations and abrasions**

**-Multiple scars**

**-Multiple bruises of varying degrees of severity**

**We have arranged for him to remain here in our care. Please do not worry, as he will be safe with us. If you desire a testimony from him, he has agreed to answer questions on video to be replayed in court as he would prefer to stay away from Britain at the time. Please understand.**

**Thank you for your help in righting this great wrong.**

**Sincerely,**

**Benjamin Downing**

She opened the attached pictures and found a small, thin seven-year-old boy staring back at the camera. He had black hair and very green eyes along with a small lightning-bolt shaped scar matching the description of the neighbors.

A few pictures were taken with his shirt removed, showing the remains of belt-shaped scars and multiple lacerations on his back. A lead pipe was wrapped to his arm by medical bandage tape which confirmed her suspicion that it was used as an emergency splint. She saw a picture of the burn on his right hand and shuddered upon recognizing the shape as the heating element of the Dursleys' stove. The final few pictures were x-rays of malnourished bone density and a fractured arm bone.

The other documents were scans of lab reports detailing blood nutrient content, height, weight, etc.

She immediately called forensics and forwarded the letter to them.

The next morning they revealed that the pictures were real and matched a lot of evidence found at the house, further incriminating the family. Though, they admitted that the email address led to a dead link in the US. They couldn't trace the source beyond that, so Jenny had to accept Mr. Downing's promise that Harry Potter was alright.

* * *

A week later, the Durlseys were in a court room. Dudley was in the audience stands with a social worker shifting uncomfortably and loudly whispering his boredom.

Jenny silently hoped that the child's uncaring attitude to the fate of his parents was painful to his mother's heart.

The disk was removed from the "Evidence" envelope it had been in since she'd first received Mr. Downing's parcel. A projector and player was brought into the courtroom and the disk was inserted to begin playing.

The screen lit up and showed a frail boy with messy black hair in a plush armchair. His thin, bony arm was in a sling at his side and he looked at the camera, mildly uncomfortable with the attention of being filmed. He identified himself as "Harry James Potter, age 7" and a masculine voice spoke off-camera, introducing himself as "Doctor E.J." for anonymity. The voice asked Harry about his home life, how he was treated, an average day, a good day, a bad day, his school life, his chores, and the day he left. He asked Harry to detail standard punishments administered by both Dursley adults and teachers.

After being interrogated, a hand in a white latex glove in a white labcoat sleeve appeared at the edge of the screen and held up enhanced images of the boy in question; specifically pictures of the scars on his back, the burn on his hand (which Harry supplied his healing burn scar on his hand to the camera), and X-Ray images of his broken arm and severe bone malnutrition. Harry didn't seem distressed by the questioner nor the questions, just a bit uncomfortable at being the center of attention.

Afterwards, Harry was happy to address the camera and state that he was currently very pleased with his new family.

By the time the screen faded to black, the courtroom was in an outrage. The Dursley's lawyer had nothing in the face of the overwhelming evidence provided by the investigation and the testimony video. The Dursley parents were sentenced to 10 years in prison and heavy fines for extreme child endangerment. Dudley Dursley was given over to the custody of his paternal aunt Marjory Dursley with instructions to attend several psychiatric evaluation sessions over the next few months with more in the future as deemed necessary

Jenny watched with some dark glee as the couple was taken away in cuffs, though she noticed a few figures in the far back of the public gallery whose faces were covered in hoods. They wore identical grins and one looked directly at her before nodding discretely.

When the court room was adjourned, she quickly made her way to the back of the courtroom, but the figures had disappeared. Though a small envelope was left on one of their seats addressed to her. She opened it up and removed the two pieces of paper inside.

One was a short note in neat writing.

**Thank you for all of your help, Officer.**

**-Benjamin Downing**

The other was a childish drawing of a generic brown-haired woman in a police uniform with a young, smiling boy with black hair and obvious green eyes. On the back it said "**Thank you Officer Smithson –Harry Potter**" in childish scrawl.

She smiled and left the courtroom a happier woman.

* * *

That evening, Privet Drive was glowing in the early morning pre-dawn darkness…

Well, #4 was glowing at least.

Four figures stood in front of the roaring fire that was once #4. The few things of Harry's were salvaged in a tiny bag and put to the side. They also… liberated a few things before allowing Toby to set the place ablaze. After all, why let perfectly good things go to waste.

Jeff got a new knife and a few state-of-the-art tool bits from Vernon's business. BEN stole some of the video games Dudley had along with his computer system and a few consoles. Toby was satisfied taking some of the tacky, but expensive, china Tchotchkes of Petunia's which would probably be used for some amusing batting practice later on.

Toby was currently sitting cross-legged and dangerously close to the blaze with a small extendable roasting rod with a couple marshmallows turning lightly golden from the glorious blaze.

E.J. didn't take anything from the house but had a few coolers with biohazard stickers next to him and was currently munching on a kidney-shaped lump of flesh.

Jeff noticed first. "Hey, E.J. where'd you get the kidney?"

Jack swallowed before answering. "I managed to wheedle a few short trips from Zalgo to Marjorie Dursley's house and the local penitentiaries. Guess whose this is?"

"Ew, you're eating that fat guy's kidney?"

"Oh, God, no. That bloated whale and his kid's organs are probably so disgustingly fatty it'd give me indigestion. This is Petunia's." He took another bite.

Jeff raised a nonexistent eyebrow. "So, you just left the others alone?"

E.J. grinned maliciously. "Hell, no. The cooler to the right has about 40% of Vernon's liver. I want to run some tests to see how that fatty organ (and I was right, it is) could process so much alcohol and fat. The cooler to the left has the Dursley kid's pancreas. I want to see how it could survive so much sugar."

BEN looked at him. "Why only 40%?"

"Well, I believe you can survive with only that much missing, but just barely. Petunia'll be fine with just one kidney. As for the kid's pancreas, he'll just have to limit his sugar intake with daily injections of insulin. I figured for a kid like that, it'd be Hell enough.

"I also ran into that stupid dog of Marge's that Harry mentioned. Ripper, I think its name was."

"Was?"

"No, I kept it alive (**AN: after all, if I killed a dog in my fic, you people would probably eat me alive**). I just removed a few things necessary to "rip" stuff." He held out his palm which had a large amount of sharp, pearly white teeth glinting in the firelight. "Don't worry, he was out when I did it. No sense torturing an animal just for its nature. Though, some revenge on Harry's behalf was justified."

Jeff nodded, "Definitely." He glanced around at the surrounding houses. "We should scram. These people are probably getting suspicious. Though, if they do see us-" His grin widened and he brandished a knife as he glared at #5, "snitches get stitches. Right?"

"No, Jeff. We're getting enough attention as it is. Let's just use Zalgo's portal to get back before Slendy finds out." Jack said firmly. Toby sat up and popped the slightly-overcooked marshmallow in his mouth (E.J. winced at the burns the teen couldn't feel) before retracting his roasting rod. The four gathered their stolen possessions glanced back at and made it to the fence edge where a swirling, red portal beckoned.

As they walked across the lawn, Jeff turned to the eyeless doctor and summed up his action for clarification. "So, you ripped out their organs and stitched them up while they were out from anesthetics?"

E.J. grinned and his smile glinted evilly in the red blaze.

"Whoever said the _Dursleys_ were unconscious during their procedure?"

* * *

Albus Dumbledore just got back from an annoyingly long and complicated ICW meeting. Honestly, those fools couldn't count to 10 without his help.

After almost a full month of being gone from meeting to meeting, he just wanted to go to sleep in his familiar bed. He apparated to the gates of Hogwarts well past midnight and walked up to his study. On the way, he was suddenly accosted by four irate heads of houses still in pajamas.

Snape was the first. "Albus! Get those bloody things out of your office!"

Minerva nodded in rare agreement. "We've resorted to casting silencing charms on every classroom and as many as we can around your office, but the noise just bleeds through! The students can't get a decent night's sleep! We tried owling you but you couldn't be reached."

Albus didn't hear anything beyond that as he rushed towards the noisy office. He spoke the password ("Blood Pop") and ran up the stairs to the doors. The second he opened them, the silencing charms were broken and he was hit by a wave of noise that couldn't possibly be healthy for human hearing.

All around his office, his spinning knick knacks were spiraling and whizzing while emitting screams, sirens, honks, and (embarrassingly for one) some noises that were reminiscent to a raspberry Peeves would give. His desk was almost buried under a frantic amount of letters from Arabella Fig with a specific yellow wax seal he instructed to use when communicating information regarding Harry Potter. Disregarding his bleeding ears, he ran to each and every one of his instruments tied to Harry Potter and #4 Privet Drive.

Each one said the same thing essentially. 1) Harry Potter was not in #4 Privet Drive. 2) Harry Potter was not in the UK anymore. 3) #4 was in danger.

The only comfort he had was a remaining instrument puffing away indicating that the Potter boy was still alive.

He silenced them all with a wave of his wand and called upon Fawkes. In a flash of Phoenix Fire, he found himself in front of another, completely different fire.

He watched as his plans, like #4 itself, went up in fire and smoke.

He glanced to the side just in time to see four figures disappear into a red portal at the fence gate. The figures wore hoods and had their backs to the blazing inferno, so he couldn't make out their faces. Admittedly, he was too surprised to see them that he hadn't thought of using a Stunning Spell to get one of them. By the time he'd thought of the idea, the swirling, red portal closed in on itself and vanished, taking the only source of information with it.

Dumbledore ran over to the space where it used to be and raised the Elder Wand casting generic diagnosis charms.

His wand came up blank.

Stunned, he raised it again and cast more specific charms, ancient charms, tracking charms, even some rather unapproved-of-by-law charms designed to trace a mode of transportation. Each one came up with nothing and insisted that nothing ever magical existed there in the first place.

He stared back at the spot where the fissure in time and space used to be and glared darkly as though sheer willpower might force it open again. His anger was distracted by the distant horns of muggle "fire engines" rapidly approaching in response to the blaze.

He spared one more glance at the pyre that was #4 Privet Drive before walking quickly away towards a dark space between two cookie-cutter homes without any windows facing him. He summoned Fawkes and Pheonix-flamed away to his office, leaving a scorch mark on the muggle's lawn.

Once back in the familiar environment of his office, sans the clicking and ticking of roughly 35 intricate, _expensive_ silvery devices, he began to do what he'd always done for 140 years of his life.

He planned.

* * *

Deep below the earth's surface, in a large cavern made completely of black obsidian, from the craggy walls to the impossibly-sharp stalagmites and stalactites adorning at random intervals, a being sat in an obsidian throne, draped across the armrests. Red flames flickered and licked at the rock from small cracks and veins of red, glowing coal pulsed. Around the throne were rivers of tar-black ooze slowly sludging its way around the cave and fed by drips and drizzles of the stuff from the roof.

The being in question was currently playing with a small, gold key in his hand. The ornate end of it was intricately shaped into an ancient symbol. The society that created it was long-gone, but the essence of the symbol remained ingrained in the basis of the human psyche.

The symbol of absolute, unadulterated Corruption.

The being flipped it thoughtfully in its hands, contemplating something. Finally, he stood up from his seat and walked over to the pool of black muck and murmured into it, "_Harry Potter_."

A skeletal hand, coated in the tar slowly emerged from the sticky embrace and held up a partially decayed newspaper. Zalgo took the paper and the ooze fell off like water on plastic as the hand was dragged back into the muck. He smoothed out the creases before re-reading the old headline:

"**You-Know-Who Defeated Forever! Wizarding World Saved by Boy-Who-Lived; Harry Potter!**"

The demon grinned as he re-read the old passage from a paper called "The Daily Prophet" detailing this mysterious wizard that an entire society was afraid to say the name of and how a young toddler managed to supposedly destroy this corrupt soul off the face of the earth. "_Oh, Slendy, what a prize you've caught, haven't you?_"

He tossed the paper back into the river and it was slowly dragged back under the surface. Flinging himself back onto his dark throne, he held the key above his head once more, examining it. He flipped it over once more and read a name engraved in the handle.

**Gringotts Bank  
**

"_This will be… fun._"

* * *

**AN: People in this chapter are purely fiction. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is completely coincidental.**

**If you were wondering about Funnymouth, I chose him because he was the only pasta I could think of who had to deal with broken bones (even if it was just a jaw bone).**

**Oh, Jeeze. Halfway through writing the officer scene, I realized I'd just named her "Officer Jenny". I guess for the most part you can call it a "cameo" of sorts for Pokemon.**

**I have little to no idea how the justice system works in America, let alone Britain. Please forgive me for anything that I messed up on, but for the most part I think I did alright. (And I know they have a lot of different terms and phrases regarding police in Britain, but I'm from the Mid West, so please cut me some slack.)**

**What is Zalgo doing? How does he know about the Wizarding World?**

**I hope you enjoyed.**

**-Crow**

* * *

**-Funnymouth: "Funnymouth" by Slimebeast**

**-Zalgo: Internete meme: by unknown**

**-Freddy Fazbear: "Five Nights at Freddy's" by Scott Cawthon: video game franchise**


	5. Don't Trust Strangers

**ALERT!**

**This chapter contains some sensitive topics. Please read the following AN:**

**ALERT!**

**AN: This chapter is a chapter to help transition Harry into the Creepypasta lifestyle. However the sensitive topics of murder and kidnapping will be the focal points of this chapter… well, more the "murder" aspect. As a trigger warning, there will be kidnapping and implications of child slavery/abduction. However, I thought that the way I mapped out was a good way to go about introducing this transition.**

**I suppose you expect murders and such (after all, it is Creepypasta), but I want you to know that I think viewer discretion is advised at a certain point.**

**Remember; don't trust strangers, don't eat candy/food lying around, stay in well-lit, public areas, don't throw rocks at people's heads, and don't eat the yellow snow.**

**And finally, "Creativity, not reality". This is a work of fiction and should not be replicated under any circumstances.**

**This message brought to you by:**

**-Crow**

**P.S. I don't own anything. Least of all the Pastas and Harry Potter.**

**P.P.S. This is especially a toeing-the-line Teen rated chapter because of some references to recreational drugs (no usage or explanations about usage, though), alcohol consumption by adults, somewhat graphic violence/gore, and copious amounts of swearing.**

* * *

Children's laughter rang out in the park. Kids as young as 3 were playing in the sandbox or on the swings and kids as old as 14 were playing fort with the play set. Parents watched dutifully on the park benches; bandages, sanitizer, juice packs, and anti-pedophile-pepper-spray in hand.

No one noticed as the shy 7-year-old with glasses and shaggy, black hair cautiously approached from the treeline. His piercing, green eyes kept darting around fearfully and unsure of what to do.

He eventually made it to the more secluded swing set and began moving back and forth, not going more than a few inches in either direction. Unfortunately, his timid behavior and seclusion made him prime targets for a gang of 11-year-olds.

"Hey, weirdo!"

The black-haired boy looked up and found himself face-to-face with about 5 older boys leering down at him. A shiver ran through him as the image of the freckle-faced leader was replaced with a blonde-headed pig-boy hybrid.

"Wat'cha doing, freak? Too much of a pussy to actually _have_ friends?" His gang chortled with somewhat forced laughter with their leader's jibe. "So, where're your parents, dork?"

The boy mumbled something fearfully, but the leader picked up a sixth sense from the kid that the parents were either not here or wouldn't give a rat's ass either way. He gave a head nod to his gang who circled the kid still on the swing.

"Well, I guess nobody'll notice a few scrapes, now would they, freak?" He grinned, stalking closer.

His ominous approach was cut short by a small rock thrown straight at his head. He glared in the direction it came from and saw three kids standing on a rock. The leader was a girl around 8 or 9 with overall jeans and a slingshot in her hand. The other boys to her side had a baseball bat and the other had a couple of rocks he was tossing experimentally in the air to catch.

"Hey, Toejam! Pick on someone your own size!" She shouted, prepping another rock. She took aim and managed to nail one of the leader's goons in the forehead. He ran away, clutching his slightly bleeding forehead and wailing for his mother.

The leader growled in annoyance before barking at his other gang members. "Well, what are you idiots waiting for?! Get 'er!"

The remaining three goons started running towards the three, but one was knocked back by a girl dropping from the tree branches above and another was nailed by a rock in a… sensitive place for a male. The final goon looked at his fallen comrades rapidly running away before making the wise decision to bail himself.

"Cowards!" The leader shouted after them. He rounded on the girl, but evaluated his options and decided to aim for his first target; the kid with black hair. He grabbed the smaller boy by the shirt collar and ignored the struggling. "Get outta here, Pansy! No one asked for you!"

"Well, I didn't expect as much, Toejam!" She retorted. The leader, apparently "Toejam", narrowed his eyes at the girl and raised a fist at the kid. Before it gained enough momentum, it was smacked by a rather large rock. There was a distinct *crack* sound from the collision.

"Toejam" wailed in agony, clutching his hand, which had a finger slightly crooked in the wrong place. He glared weakly at the girl before running off to find someone to get medical attention for him.

The four kids made their way to the seven-year-old, who was on the ground after being dropped. He looked up gratefully at his saviors before looking ashamed and mumbling. The girl, "Pansy", picked up on that.

"Hey, what's the matter? Did he get you or something?"

He managed to raise his voice to barely audible levels. "I'm sorry you had to go out of your way for me."

The boys shared a glance of confusion while the girls' eyes softened significantly. "It was nothing, we had fun. What's your name?"

"Harry." She managed to make out.

"Well, I'm Pansy." She introduced herself and glanced at the others to follow suit.

"I'm Mike." Said the boy with the bat. He had a New York Mets baseball cap with a red sports jersy.

"My name's Tom." Introduced the boy who had tossed stones. He had sandy blonde hair with some glasses and a blue polo.

"And I'm Sam." Said the girl who dropped from the tree. She had a dirty, green skirt on and her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail.

Harry smiled shyly at the quartet and allowed his voice to get slightly louder. "Hello. It's nice to meet you all."

Pansy's head cocked to the side. "What's the accent from?"

Tom answered for Harry. "It's British. My cousin showed me some clips from a show called _Doctor Who_ one time. They draw out vowels." They looked at Harry who nodded in confirmation.

Pansy decided to break the ice with him in the only way kids really understand how. "So, do you wanna play?"

Harry's nod prompted Pansy to take his hand, ignoring the flinch at contact, and led him to the monkey bars.

* * *

Slenderman looked on at the scene from the shade and cover of a nearby line of trees leading into a forest. He was worried about Harry being isolated for so long from normal humans, so he thought to shadow-walk him to a park somewhere in southern California where it was still relatively warm despite the winter months.

He also knew he had to get him away from the others during their "kill of the season" and "assignments".

The faceless entity "sighed" to himself. He knew the other tenants needed their seasonal murder for catharsis and to ensure the Balance, but he was worried about Harry. He knew the boy would need to become acclimated to the thought of death and killing if he was to stay in the manor…

But, honestly, how do you get a 7 year old okay with the fact that his friends and surrogate family are murderers and serial killers?

Well, without causing massive psychological trauma.

Sally and Jeff both came to mind as he thought that.

He mentally shivered at the thought of a second Jeffery Woods living under the same roof. It was bad enough that he had Toby as well.

He watched as Harry found his way to the swingset. He was prepared to intervene when the bullies arrived, but didn't manage to put up his glamour before the rambunctious girl threw the stone.

Now, he watched his ward play with his new-found playground friends. Thankfully, their escapades didn't end with him needing any medical treatment on Harry's behalf. Funnymouth warned him that Harry's arm may be slightly weaker for a while, but should be alright for most tasks.

"Taw!"

He was broken out of his thoughts and looked down to see a small 4-year-old boy that had wandered away from his mother and was currently gaping up at him.

"Taw ma-an!" Slenderman smiled warmly… at least in his head. He knew the child was trying to say 'tall man'. Many kids he'd watched over had nicknamed him that in his years of existence.

A quick glamour later and a 6 foot, pale, white-haired, 30-year-old with essentially-black eyes in a suit led the amazed toddler over to the playground where he found a woman looking around with increasing panic. He sensed her surface emotions. _Let's see; frantic worry, mood swings between self-directed rage and borderline tears, protective urges along familial bonds- seems safe to call her the mother._ He mused.

"Excuse me, miss. Is this yours?" He "smiled" through the glamour. The woman saw the toddler and let out a relieved laugh before picking up the child.

"Oh God, oh God, thank you so much, sir. Oh, I looked away for a minute to get a juice pack and he was gone. Where'd you find him?" She asked, checking the giggling toddler over.

"He wandered over to the edge of the forest. I had to make a quick phone call, so I stepped over to the treeline, there. It let me keep an eye on my boy while the noise level wasn't too bad." The mother nodded understandingly and returned her attention to the child in her arms.

"Taw Man!" The child exclaimed, pointing at Slendy. The mother giggled and raised an eyebrow in silent questioning at the glamoured entity. Said entity just shrugged good-naturedly.

He saw the child cover his face with both hands, reminiscent of peek-a-boo, but Slendy got the impression it was meant to represent his featureless façade. The mother smiled and thanked him again before carrying the still laughing child to her park bench.

Slenderman, still glamoured, looked back to where he'd last seen Harry and his friends.

He frowned when he saw they weren't there.

_That woman is right_. He thought. _You take your eyes off of them for a minute and they're gone_.

But that still didn't help the uneasy feeling in his "stomach".

* * *

"Harry, come on! It's ice cream!"

Pansy and the others were encouraging him towards a white vehicle with a sign displaying various ice cream treats. The van emitted some corny music and a man and a woman were smiling inside with some aprons and small, paper hats.

Harry didn't know what exactly set off the alarms.

The fact that the van looked like a rented, white van with a crude sign taped to it.

The fact that there weren't any coolers or anything that looked like ice cream.

The fact that there weren't price tags for the ice cream pictures on the sign.

The way the two adults were smiling at them.

But the biggest factor was the fact that the van was parked on a side road far away from any other kids or adults.

"Guys, I really don't think we should…"

"Oh, come on! Don't they have ice cream vans in England?"

Harry frowned. He'd seen plenty of ice cream trucks in his neighborhood. Dudley practically screamed whenever it came around, though he'd never actually eaten ice cream himself. He conceded the point that it may just be different here in America.

But still…

Harry kept an eye on the pair of adults as they approached. The woman smiled at them. "Hey, kids. What can we getch'ya?"

The four kids each excitedly requested different items and the woman chuckled. "I'm not sure we have any of those left. Why don't you take a look in the cooler in the back?" She stepped aside and let the others venture in.

Harry's alarm klaxons were blaring. "Hey, guys. I really don't thi-mmmph!"

He panicked as he realized the man had crept behind him and grabbed him. He thrashed in the older man's arms, but the malnourished, underweight 7-year-old couldn't put up much of a fight.

The woman slammed the van door and Harry could hear the sounds of the struggle inside as she dealt with the other kids with, apparently, a third man hiding in the back. Her head appeared in the open window. "Get that brat in here! We gotta bail!"

Harry struggled as they tried pushing him through the window and he saw the other kids being taken down by the other man. He was bound by the older man and tossed in the back. The others soon followed him. The third man stayed in the back to watch them and the initial man and woman took the driver's and passenger's seats, respectively.

Harry's heart hammered in his ribcage. He felt something stirring in his chest-

Like the incident with the teacher's hair.

He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on that stirring. His own panic helped cause it to amplify.

_I need to save my friends. I need to save my friends. I need to save my friends._

He repeated his mantra as he heard the keys go in the ignition and the _whiririririr_ of the car's failed attempts to start. The other kids were crying and shouting for help. He tried to block out their screaming and focused on that swirling chaos in him and kept willing something- _anything_ to happen.

He heard the radio emit loud static and a few broken phrases or bars of music. The windshield wipers ran themselves across the window and the side windows were spastically rolling up and down on their own.

"What the f*ck are you doing, Rad? Get this car started and stop f*cking around!" The woman shouted at the driver.

"I'm not doing it, Razz! The whole thing's just freaking out!" He looked out the window and saw the trees, grass, and some debris swirling around the van in some kind of wind.

The woman, Razz, shrieked as her soda cup from lunch suddenly boiled over, spraying some old coke on the dashboard. The glove compartment forced itself open and a few odds and ends came tumbling out. The engine core gauge on the dash ran from extremely hot to extremely cold and back again.

The entire time, Harry kept focusing in on himself, trying to reach the center-

"_Harry?!_"

Slendy!

The car roared to life as the ignition finally caught.

"NO!"

With that, it felt as though all of the swirling energy in him was released at once. He heard the car windows shatter or spiderweb. The radio made a loud *_crack_* as it fried in a violent spark. A few nearby trees toppled from the shockwave.

In his daze, he managed to open his eyes and see the back doors of the van were forced open and the bound kids and the third adult went soaring out, the kids landing significantly farther than the adult. He saw the man scramble to get up and started towards the kids.

"Leave 'em, Jack! Get in!" Razz shouted

The third adult, Jack, abandoned the others and ran in the car, slamming the doors shut behind him.

Harry's head felt heavier and heavier and it became harder to keep watching. His confused mind confirmed that his four friends were outside of the van and relatively safe, even if they were still bound. He managed to glimpse a hazy, white figure in a suit through the glass in the back door before his vision faded out.

_Slendy…_

* * *

A glamoured Slenderman ran through the forest, risking a short teleport every now and then as he searched for his ward. He had checked the forest already and couldn't find any sign of neither him nor the kids he'd been playing with.

He stopped as he felt a sudden spike in the electromagnetic field. He followed it and could sense it was getting both closer and stronger. He looked around and saw the birds and some squirrels were frantically running away from the epicenter.

As he got closer, he could sense something big was about to happen. He tried teleporting towards the source, but found that the energy somehow interfered with it.

He shuddered as he found that the trees and some litter was being picked up by an unnatural wind. Looking around, he saw some good-sized rocks had started levitating in place, untouched by the wind, but reacting to the energy in the air.

_Oh, not good! Not good at all!_ He thought as he kept running. If this was what he thought it was, then he was correct about E.J.'s blood sample from earlier in the week.

Looking around, it started becoming more and more obvious that something was wrong. Even though the hair was just an illusion, it still reacted and stood up on end from the sheer amount of energy saturating the air.

"Harry!" He shouted. He heard screaming and shouting towards the center of the storm. His mind immediately went to the worst possible scenarios.

_Harry losing control of his power and slowly killing his friends._

_Harry in pain and losing control, causing catastrophe and the screams could've been any unfortunate souls in the vicinity._

_Harry in terror and losing control._

_Harry alone and losing control._

_Harry in danger and losing control._

Surprisingly, most of those issues dealt with control. Slenderman vowed to himself to teach Harry to control himself. If not for Harry's safety then for his own peace of mind.

Mind.

With that thought, he braced himself against the EM field's dampening affects on his abilities and focused to send out the strongest telepathic shout he could. "_Harry!_"

The center of the epicenter calmed and Slenderman felt the distinct emotion of relief and happiness-

Then it was crushed by overwhelming fear, panic, and desperation.

He felt the energy around him climax before a shockwave of light and force blasted through the forest. The energy interference lingered like ionized air after a thunderstorm, but he managed to concentrate enough to teleport a short distance to the epicenter.

He found four children bound in some plastic ties squirming on the ground and a grungy man slamming the doors to a white van a few meters away. Slenderman shuddered as he glimpsed a worn-out Harry inside.

The van screeched away and Slendy cursed the fact that the epicenter had too much lingering energy interference for him to directly transport from that location.

He quickly ran to the kids and snapped each of the plastic restraints. He managed to overcome the residual energy to emit a calming wavelength to them to bring them out of their shock and panic. "Children, please listen! What happened here? Where's Harry?"

Pansy was still a bit off-put by the stranger incident. "W-who are you?"

"I'm Harry's… adopted father." He said with a slight pause. At this point, for all intents and purposes it was true.

Pansy nodded, still shocked. "W-we were playing a-and there was an ice cream truck. O-or we thought it was. H-H-Harry t-tried to w-warn us-"

She broke down in some hysterical sobs. Slenderman let the other girl her help comfort her and he turned to a less-hysterical though still pale boy. "What happened afterwards?"

"H-Harry tried warning us against going in the van. We were stupid and went in. Next thing we knew, we were fighting off these two adults and Harry was being shoved in through the window. After that, we were just panicking, but Harry was… _doing _something."

"Doing something?"

"He was sitting there, but the entire van was going crazy! It was like that scene from _Close Encounters of the Third Kind_. Everything inside and outside of the truck was acting up!"

Slendy suspected as much, given what he saw. The boy continued. "Then, when the adults got the car started and it was like we were thrown back out of the car. I don't know how, but it didn't hurt when we landed. After that, the other guy packed up, they ran away, and you showed up."

Slenderman nodded, letting the kids gather their wits. When he was sure they were okay, he started searching around the debris. When the doors opened, a lot of stuff inside spewed out as well.

A piece of paper caught his eye and he found it was a cheap map of the nearby city on the back of a brochure for a museum. On the map was a small circled area conveniently labeled "Drop Off".

Slenderman straightened up in determination and turned to the still trembling kids. "Alright. I need you to be calm, okay? I'll get Harry back. I need you to find your parents. Tell them what happened and tell them to call the police. They'll be here." He handed them the brochure. He'd already memorized it (a benefit to being an immortal entity). "Do you understand?"

The children nodded shakily and the girl took the brochure. Slendy looked off in the direction of the van's escape and back to the kids before smirking. Screwing the Code, a variation of his black tentacles sprouted from his back and four spindly, spider-like appendages propelled him swiftly in the direction the van disappeared.

The kids' fear was partially replaced with instant amazement.

"That's an awesome dad." Mike said. The thought was agreed upon by the others, but they ran back to the playground with the map in hand.

* * *

"F*ck! F*ck! F*ck!"

"Rad, calm down!" Razz yelled out. Her voice echoed in the warehouse they staked out. Her words didn't stop him from pacing nervously. Though, she shared his sentiment; the abduction was a bust. She didn't know what the Hell happened, but four of the five kids got away and the van was totaled thanks to whatever _that_ was.

The kid they had left was a scrawny brat. Probably wouldn't sell well, but it was all they had that week. She tossed him, still unconscious, in one of the dog cages in the back with several other kids they'd been keeping for the past month or two.

That was how it worked. Most of the kids they targeted were illegal immigrants' or street runaways. Kids who wouldn't be missed or whose parents wouldn't or couldn't go to the police. It was a big risk going to the park, but they were short on time and any of those little bastards' parents could be rich enough to ransom. Besides, they were planning on ditching the town tomorrow. They could risk a bit.

Their main buyer was a guy in Mexico who was going to visit that afternoon. He looked for slave labor and ransom money. Given that kids were easier to "break", he requested them over troublesome teenagers or adults.

She personally didn't care as long as the money was good.

She went to the back of the warehouse to the old break room and grabbed a beer from the mini fridge. They had to drive most of the day to get here, but it was the only safehouse they had set up in this town. Outside, the sunset became a sodium-lamp orange from the fumes of the industrial sector. The bright, orange light fell through the tall, warehouse windows and bathed the warehouse in a dark, rusty color. The light cast horizontal, orange slats in the dim breakroom.

They couldn't risk lighting the place up for now, so the orange sunlight had to do.

She downed the disgusting, cheap dishwater, grimacing at the taste, but grateful for the booze nonetheless. She headed over to the cages in the back room. From what they could tell, this place used to be for shipping and the back area was for temporary live animal containment. The cages were leftover and served well enough for their occupants.

Of the eight occupied cages, seven had Mexican kids either babbling in Spanish at her or whimpering something she thought sounded like prayers. "Damn religious nuts." She mumbled at them. She took another swig as she got to the cage with the unconscious white kid.

She suspected he'd be ransom material, but he had the half-starved appearance of one of the street rats. She shrugged it off. If he was rich, they'd ransom. If he was poor, nobody'd want him and he'd be just as good in the tobacco fields as the other seven brats.

Razz went back to the main area of the warehouse. It was filled with their client's "business product". They initially joked it was probably taco shells, but she managed to catch a glimpse of some of their client's "merchandise" and it ranged from guns and ammunition to bags of marijuana to blocks of powdered drugs. Rad handled the inventory for him.

She'd make sure not to cross their client after seeing the shipments.

She sauntered outside and found Jack smoking a cigarette outside the warehouse. He was twitchy and kept looking around nervously.

"Hey, Jack, what's up?"

He jumped and stared at her like a frightened rabbit before he calmed down enough to recognize her. He raised a trembling hand before taking a long, calming drag and speaking. "I-it's just… that kid…"

She raised an eyebrow. "The white brat back there?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I-I don't know, man… er, woman? All that freaky shit that happened, I could tell it was the kid doing it. I have no f*cking idea how, but I know that kid was doing it all."

She snorted. "You mean like telepaths, ESP, and telekinetic shit? Come on, that's just some bull swamis and psychics use to scam people out of their money."

"No, you weren't back there." He insisted. "All the other kids were panicking and stuff. You know, the usual. That kid was just sitting there with his eyes closed. It was like he was meditating. I could feel the hairs on my arm stand on end. It was like- like one of those electric machines from science labs, you know? The ones that make your hair stand up? Except, it was _that kid_!"

"So, the kid has mind powers? What were you smoking before the gig?"

"Well how else do you explain all that freaky shit! What's your explanation?!" He demanded. Razz stayed silent. "Thought so."

"So, what do you wanna do about it?"

"I dunno. Maybe we could sell the kid on the Black Market to some freaky paranormal researchers or a cult or something. That client deals with all sorts of stuff. Maybe some Cthulu cult wants him to sacrifice or some shit."

"You believe in Cthulu?" She grinned.

"Not cthulu, but-" He paused, deciding whether or not to look like a loon. "There was… _something_."

"Something?"

"When we were high-tailing it outta the park. I saw this guy just _appear_. He didn't run up or jump down from a tree or whatever, he was just, suddenly… _there_. You know?"

"No, I seriously don't. I also think you're tripping."

"But I saw him again. When we were taking the kid in. I could've sworn I saw this… _thing_ following the van. It looked like some kind of cross between Doctor Octopus and a spider."

"You mean we had a tail and you didn't say?!" She demanded.

"What the Hell was I supposed to say?! 'There's some freaky spider-human-thing following the car!'? How do you think that'd go down?"

"Ugh. Just stay clean next time alright? No drugs. I don't want you freaking out about spider-people following us when a cop car or something actually is." She walked away, leaving him to his cigarette.

She walked back to the break room and filled a cup of crappy coffee from the machine in the corner-

*_chreeechktktktwahtchehdhehehehe*_

She spun around and quickly located the source to be an old radio set the company had left. She snorted at her jumpiness and went to turn it off.

She flicked the power switch.

*_wehehehehecthththdkhtkhtht_*

"Damn." She cursed. She slammed her palm into the side of the machine to try to shut it up, but it just kept going. Finally, she had enough.

She looked behind it and found the dusty crevice had some rat droppings and spider webs. Grimacing, she reached in, ignoring the brushing feeling and located the power cord.

She ripped it out of the wall.

*_chchckchcchchchkettktktkhkthk_*

"What the fu-"

"AAUUGH! AUGH! AUGH! RAZZ! RAD! OH GOD! AUUUGHHH!"

She ignored the busted radio for now and ran outside to see Jack scrambling up against the side of the warehouse, staring at the rooftops of one of the other warehouses.

She clocked him. "Shut up, you moron! You wanna bring out every cop on this side of the city?!"

He was still shaken, but the knock to the head helped… kinda. "R-Razz, I saw him! I saw him, Razz! I saw him!" He whimpered before breaking down completely.

Razz looked around, but saw no one nearby. She led the obviously high and hallucinating abductor to the back room. She deposited the mumbling wreck unceremoniously in the chairs before going back to her coffee. She grimaced. It was stone cold.

"Raa-ha-ha-hazzz" Jack sobbed. "I-I saw him, Razz. The spider-guy. He looked r-right at meee-he-he-heeee." He broke down crying again.

"Shut up already! Look, whatever's in your system will clear out in a couple hours. Just ignore the scary man and he won't bother you." She rolled her eyes. A grown man shouldn't have to be told to not think about "the big, scary man". But when you're dealing with druggies, what else were you gonna tell them?

She picked up her jacket and headed outside.

She really needed the smoke.

* * *

Jack stayed in his chair.

He kept looking around the room fearfully and his heart was hammering away against his ribcage, but he stayed in his chair.

He saw it though. He was sure of it. It was almost the exact same guy as before, except his head looked different. He couldn't make out details from that far away, but he could make out that much. The guy was staring right at him and his human-like body dangled from four spindly spider-like legs which positioned themselves along the rooftops.

He looked longingly at the fridge for a cold beer, but he was terrified of the man being behind him when he turned around.

Behind him!

He swiveled in his chair, suddenly paranoid. The entire room was empty. The warehouse interior through the window was also empty.

He settled back in his chair. He cleared out his ears and fidgeted. That damn ringing sound was getting annoying.

The fan had long since shorted out and hung silently from the ceiling as useful as a decorative statue. To keep the power to the place low, they left the lights off in the room, but the red-orange light filtering through gave a rusty hue to the interior.

Despite it being almost winter, the entire place felt like an oven. The orange sunlight just helped give the impression of heat.

He looked back at the fridge. A cold beer would be great right about now. Something to help cool himself down mentally and physically.

*Cough! Cough! Hack!*

And help wet his throat. He ran his tongue around the roof of his mouth and grimaced at the taste of copper… and iron?

No! He had to focus. He had to.

He watched out the window. Expecting to see the spider-person. The room was empty. The only place the spider-guy had to enter was the warehouse. He just had to sit in this chair and make the scary man go away.

The taste of iron kept pooling in his mouth. He also felt something trickling down from his nose. He ignored both and kept staring out the window. The man was out there. He knew it!

The radio must have started up again. The ringing and static filled his ears. "SHUT UP!" he shouted fruitlessly at the static.

He kept watching the window.

More… liquid kept running down from his nose. He heard it *plip* on the ground over the sound of the static and ringing.

Damn, he needed a beer.

He gagged on something in the back of his throat and spat a dark pink-red glob on the cement floor. He doubted he could keep a beer down, but he needed it. God, he needed it. There was that person outside the window. He just needed to catch him!

He kept watching the window.

The window.

The window.

The window.

The glass spider-webbed on impact.

He blinked in confusion and glanced on the floor to see the heavy, glass ashtray that used to be right next to him cracked in half on the floor. When did that happen?

He _really_ needed a beer. Or scotch. Or vodka. Or crack. Or heroine. Or something.

He had it!

He weakly chuckled at the simplicity of his genius plan. He knew where the mini-fridge was. He knew where the beers were. All he had to do was back up towards it, keep his eyes on the window, and feel around inside the fridge for the beer bottles! It was so simple!

He kept laughing as he slowly got out of the chair.

He kept laughing as he backed away from the broken glass. His eyes started stinging from the staring contest with the window.

He kept laughing as he imagined where his prize was.

He kept laughing after he bumped into something that wasn't there before.

He kept laughing as he felt around it.

He kept laughing as he felt some expensive material and what felt like a button.

He kept laughing as he tore his eyes away from the window and up into the face…

He kept laughing as he backed away.

He kept laughing as he staggered back into his chair.

He kept sobbing as the spider-figure stared at him without any eyes.

He kept sobbing as the shadows behind the figure started branching out and wriggling.

He kept sobbing as the he felt the shadows wrap around his ankles and neck.

He kept sobbing-

*snap*

* * *

(**AN: Fair warning, from this point on, it gets borderline M with the some violence and mild gore. Please know your mental and emotional limits in terms of graphic violence. Thank you. -Crow**)

Rad stayed in the warehouse. He was calming down by checking over their client's "merchandise" and checking off which box arrived. He knew the boss liked things to be in order when he came around. He clicked his pen and looked down at the clipboard.

_Okay. Five blocks of cocaine? Check. A couple weird-ass guns? Check. Some *shudder* syringes of God-Knows-What? Check-_

"SHUT UP!"

He jumped as Jack's voice echoed through the empty warehouse. He knew that Jack was having a bad trip when he saw Razz take the poor guy to the breakroom. The bastard didn't know when to quit jacking himself up with that shit.

He ignored it and kept going.

_Several barrels of explosives. Check and make sure Razz or Jack don't smoke around here; double-check-_

*CRASH!*

He whirled around in the direction of the breakroom. There were a bunch of crates blocking his view, but the soft tinkle of falling glass shards still emanated from the room.

"Shit." He swore under his breath. Their client would _not_ appreciate a druggie breaking his property. He had the suspicion Jack wouldn't be working for their client anymore… and with their client, he wouldn't exactly accept a resignation form or retirement plan.

He set down the clipboard on a crate and headed over to evaluate the damage control.

Halfway there, he heard Jack laughing. _Damn, he must be tripping hard_.

The laughter kept bubbling and echoing around him. As he approached it sounded more and more distorted until he couldn't be sure if the guy was laughing or crying. The echoes kept reverberating off the walls and-

_Silence_.

Rad stopped dead in his tracks. Jack's laughter/sobbing stopped abruptly. The echoes died off quicker than they should've. Rad's soft footsteps were the only sound echoing in the warehouse. "Jack?"

_Jack? Jack? Jack?_

His own voice echoed off the walls instead of a response and quickly faded off into silence and-

He frowned and cleared his ears out. _Stupid tinnitus_.

He ignored the ringing as best as he could in the silence around him. He could hear his individual heart beats thumping away as he got closer and closer to the room. His breathing, footsteps and heartbeat were the only sounds in the warehouse.

He kept walking towards the break room, now worried his friend banged his head against a table and he passed out or something.

Yeah.

He passed out.

He chuckled to himself about getting so worked up about it. The guy's tripping. Of course he'd bang his head and pass out or something.

Still, he ought to check it out. If he cracked his skull or something they'd be out one mover when their client showed up.

He made his way to the break room and confirmed his suspicions. The idiot managed to break the glass with something. The steel mesh inlaid in the glass kept most of the shards from falling out while the rest of the glass just cracked. By the looks of whatever was dripping out from between the cracks, it almost seemed like a red… wine… bottle…

He hurried to the door and managed to break it open.

A wave of nauseating fumes hit him. He took a moment to focus-

"Oh, God."

He found Jack.

The guy had always needed to relax. His face was a constant reminder of his stress and twitchiness caused by drug addiction. Even now, he could see the tension in his upper body-

And in his head lying about six feet from it.

The guy's arms and legs were also scattered across the room while the torso was still stuck in the chair, dripping out onto the floor. Looking around, the entire room had splatters of hemoglobin red on the wall. The broken glass window was coated in a layer of blood which drizzled on the floor and through the cracks.

He backed away and vomited lunch on the cement floor outside the room. He felt himself shaking and struggled to get a grip.

What would he do?

Where would he go?

He snorted despite the situation as the thought of calling the police ran through his panicking brain.

Still…

_Okay. Okay. Assess the situation_. He thought. He took a few calming breaths before thinking.

Okay, so there's a murderer in the warehouse.

Said murderer is capable of decapitating and quartering a full human in under a minute.

Said murderer is able to get out of there, unseen, in under a minute.

Said murderer is probably still here.

Said murderer will probably go after them too.

He ran over to one of the crates he'd run inventory on and picked up a crowbar nearby. After a bit of work, he pried off the lid and found the shotgun shells and a shotgun to go with them. He loaded the double-barrel and pumped it.

He navigated the maze of crates away from the bloody scene. He kept the gun in front of him, ready for anything.

The ringing got louder. He ought to see an ear specialist in the next town they go to.

He turned a corner with his shotgun prepped for anything he might see. Nothing was there, so he decided to risk it.

"I know you're there!" He shouted out. "Just get your ass out here! I _promise_ I won't hurt ya." He chuckled weakly. As a childish afterthought, he crossed his fingers to make it "official" and a quiet, morbid giggle bubbled out at his thought process.

His head was pounding. He guessed it was a combination of the stress, adrenaline, and the fact that there was a bloody murderer on the loose. Still, it didn't help when he had to concentrate through rhythmic pounding and a bloody nose.

Wait.

When the Hell did his nose start bleeding.

He felt something on his leg.

* * *

Razz was waiting outside, enjoying her cigarette. She heard some muffled shouting, but it was completely garbled from the echoes and the walls. She didn't care. It was probably just Jack yelling up a storm about his "scary man".

She took a longer drag.

God, she needed better morons to work with.

She heard the sound of tires crunching on the gravel around the warehouses and an obscure, black Corolla rolled up to theirs.

A figure walked out of the driver's seat. She dropped the cigarette and extinguished it with her shoe. This was their client.

He called himself Gomez de la Muerte. Literally, it could be interpreted as "Man of Death". She doubted this was his real name, but wasn't about to call him out on it. This guy had more connections in the criminal underworld than there probably _were_ connections in the criminal underworld.

The guy looked around late 20s early 30s and was wearing an expensive gray suit with a blue undershirt. He was shaven and his skin was very evenly tanned save for a nasty, pale scar across his cheek. She remembered one new guy asked about it and Mr. de la Muerte simply told him it was from a knife fight back in Mexico.

Then, he shot the guy and told the rest of them not to ask personal questions again.

He walked up to her and smiled. "_Buenos Dias, Senora Razz_."

She nodded back. "Good evening, Mr. de la Muerte."

He clucked his tongue playfully. "No, nononono, _Senora_. I always insist you call me _Senor Muerte_. It's so much less of a mouthful." He chuckled softly and she forced a smile to comply. She was startled when he suddenly clapped his hands. "Now, then, let's see how you did. _Si_?"

She nodded and opened the door-

*BANG!*

The loud gunshot echoed from inside the warehouse. Mr. Muerte had his own gun pulled from his jacket and was scanning the area before grabbing Razz in a chokehold and pointing it at her.

"What was that, _Senora_? _La Policia?_ Did you rat me out?" She frantically shook her head, whimpering as she stared down the barrel. "Then you tell me why I hear gunfire in _my_ warehouse."

She blubbered about how she had no idea and he tossed her aside with a sneer. He checked the cartridge on the gun before heading inside. He ran around the maze of crates and boxes with the woman, Razz, following.

He stopped short at an opened crate. "So, _Senora_, you and your friends have been sampling _mis drugas_? _Si_?"

He ignored her frantic babbling about how they didn't and wouldn't and inspected the crate. It wasn't one of his drug cargoes. It held an array of shotguns and shells, though one shotgun looked like it was missing from the stack along with a few boxes of shells. He could guess their mystery gunfire was courtesy of that gun in particular.

He kept going, following the maze until a faint, but familiar metallic smell hit his nostrils.

He followed the odor further down a few crates.

They came across a large pool of red on the floor with some splatters going up the crates' walls. The missing shotgun was still slightly smoking and lying in the steaming puddle of blood. An empty bullet casing shined on the floor, distinctly bronze against the red-

*plip*

He looked at the puddle and saw rings.

*plip*

Another drop fell into the puddle.

He looked up and, apparently, so did Razz.

"Oh my God!" She shouted in alarm.

Rad's body was still intact, but he was dangling from a lifting hook on the ceiling. However, said hook was buried in his upper back.

Gomez was instantly on high alert. He led the other woman away from the scene and headed towards the back area. He knew the security room was just at the back of the cage room and the keys would be in the break room.

They got to the break room and Razz muffled a shriek at the bloody, broken window. The door was already bashed in and he saw the more gruesome mutilation of their other comrade. Razz retched outside, adding to another pile that was likely Rad's. That made her vomit even more.

Gomez stepped calmly through Jack's remains, even kicking an arm that was in the way, not caring that his expensive, leather shoes were getting blood on them. At the back of the break room was a small cabinet with keys labeled for different areas of the warehouse. He picked up the one for "Security Room" and walked out of the bloody horror fest.

Razz followed behind, not wanting to be alone at that point with two people already dead.

He tore open the cage room door, startling the occupants who started babbling to him in Spanish, pleading to be let go or offering pick pocketing services. He slammed his palm against one of the metal wires and effectively shut them up.

He then used his key on a door in the back area of the cage room and opened it to reveal a room filled with old televisions and some keyboards.

He flipped a breaker switch by the door and the televisions whirred to life. At this point, screw the power usage, he needed a location on the bastard that got into his warehouse and he wanted it now.

All of the cameras showed up clear as day. According to them, there was nobody else in the warehouse.

He kept glaring at the screens, willing them to show more.

As if the Universe wanted solely to spite him, one-by-one the televisions filled with static. He frantically hit a few buttons, but nothing came up. Razz was still whimpering in the corner. He grit his teeth. This was _not_ how things were supposed to go around here.

_How are they supposed to go around here_?

He found himself answering his own thought. There weren't supposed to be so many hitches.

_You'd almost think it was sabotage_.

Gomez looked up at the static-filled screens. It made sense. Someone was trying to sabotage his work. Rat him out. But who would do that?

_Her?_

He looked frantically at the woman cowering behind him. Yeah, that made sense. It was all a clever act to get him set up.

_She_ was the only one left. _She_ was a pretty good actress to keep tricking kids into following her. _She_ could easily be FBI, CIA, or just a generic policewoman undercover to bring the entire operation down from the inside.

His own paranoia fed into itself when he squashed any rationale pulling up evidence against it and concluded that the gunshot, the murders, everything was all part of Razz's plan to shut him down. She probably had another partner on the loose and he cut the cords to the security cameras.

He leveled the gun with her head. She stared blankly at the barrel. "What are you doing, Senor Muer-"

"_Callate, perra_! I know what you're up to. You think you can hide it from me? Well, you are so _very_ wrong! I _know_ you are the one who's doing all of this. You can't lie to me."

She shook her head in disbelief. "I-I didn't do any-"

"CALLATE!" He screamed, spittle flying out. His nose bled slightly down his chin, but he ignored it and kept the barrel trained on the shaking woman. "Now, I will ask once more. Are you trying to sabotage me?"

"No!"

*Bang*

She screamed as her left leg flared in pain. The bullet nicked the femur and a fragment was embedding itself in the muscle tissue, making it all the more painful to move.

"Now, I will tell you again. Are you trying to sabotage me?"

Instead of answering, she backed up against the door and scrambled backwards as it opened up into the cage room. Gomez followed behind with his gun still pointed at her. His eyes had gone bloodshot and his nose was flowing as blood drizzled off his chin.

"Tell me, _Senora_! Tell me now!" He shouted.

The kids in the cages had long since hidden in the back, shadowy part of the farthest wall to avoid the crazy man with the gun.

"Tell me! Tell-… me…" He shook as he stared behind her. She fearfully followed his gaze.

A man- no, a _thing_ in what looked like a black suit and tie was standing in the doorway. It was too tall to be a normal human and it's "face" was as blank as a canvas or a white mannequin head. It could have been a mask, but the height and the presence it emitted gave an overwhelming feeling that it was not.

Gomez trained the gun straight at the figure. "You! You are the one who came into _my_ warehouse and f*ck _my_ shit up! Well, Gomez de la Muerte does not stand for it!"

He fired the gun until he emptied the clip; almost 14 bullets. After a few seconds of silence, the figure just stood there before a curled-up, long, black, shadowy tentacle-thing snaked out of its back and unfurled-

Allowing 14 brass bullets to fall to the floor with a small, metallic clatter.

Gomez stared at the being and fruitlessly kept pulling the trigger, just getting empty *clicks* each time.

Razz had backed away from the entity and screamed when she found one of its black tentacles curling around her ankle. She smacked it, punched it, scratched it and even, in her desperation, bit it, but the shadowy limb did not release its grip on her.

She flailed helplessly as three more wrapped around her other limbs and fastened themselves.

* * *

The drug lord watched as his remaining ally was crudely torn in half.

Gomez kept clicking the gun uselessly at the figure.

He knew he lost.

He just kept clicking the gun.

That was all he had left.

*Click*

*Click*

*Click*

* * *

_Dear Balance, his mind's collapsed from my radiation._ Slenderman surmised. The vile human kept staring at him, pulling the trigger on his rather amusing toy and did not move from his position.

Slenderman decided to spare him for now for the sole purpose that the police were coming (if those kids did well) and arresting him in this mentally weakened state would collapse his entire ring. The investigator could just ask the nervous wreck what underwear he preferred and the man would reply honestly. His mind was simply too far gone to even contemplate a lie.

So many children could be saved from this vile adult when he confesses.

Speaking of children-

He looked around himself. At first he had not noticed, but the room was filled with cages and 8 cages held children cowering in the back area. He peered in through the bars and saw they were all watching him closely and fearfully. Those that had them had small, wooden rosaries in their hands and were praying vigorously.

He looked through each of the bars until he found the last one.

A pair of striking green eyes almost glowed from the back shadows of the cage. Slenderman saw those eyes shivering and darting from him to his suit to the… mess behind him.

_Oh shit_. His unspoken thought eloquently summarized his emotions at that moment. This was pretty much exactly what he _didn't_ want to do to introduce Harry to killing. Looking down he "grimaced" as he realized his suit was damp with blood and the red splotches were especially prominent on his white dress shirt.

He looked back at the boy who was currently trembling uncontrollably and whose green eyes were watery with tears.

A still-slightly-bloody tentacle lifted the latch to Harry's cage just as he had with the cuboard. His still-white hand reached out palm-side-up. He stayed that way for almost five minutes of silence save for the occasional whimper or sob from other inmates.

He was relieved when Harry finally started edging towards his hand. After another three slow, painful minutes of this, Harry weakly grasped the older entity's hand after flinching the first time.

Slenderman led the traumatized, little boy past the quivering, pathetic man clicking at an empty gun and the remains of the woman.

Harry's shoulders shook as they walked out and he saw the body of Rad dangling from the ceiling on a hook.

The boy buried his face into a clean part of Slenderman's suit as they passed by the bloody remains of Jack still seeping out the red-coated window.

The faceless entity walked out of the warehouse and into the cold air of twilight. He heard the sirens of the human's "policemen" approaching and he knew the kids did their job.

He held onto the sobbing child and did a short teleport to the top of a roof. The entity allowed them to watch as the police took away the traumatized drug lord and released the other children.

Satisfied that things would run their course for now, he teleported away with his youngest ward in hand.

* * *

**AN: **

*****Extras Opportunity*****

**Believe it or not, out of paranoia I _really_ removed a _lot_ of graphic gore from this chapter after initially writing it. I suppose I got a bit… over-descriptive at times. So, I censored a lot of it… _a lot_ of it. Though, I stored the paragraphs I removed on a separate Word file on my computer. If you're interested in knowing some of the more violent and/or gory moments of this chapter, send a PM request and I'll include a few paragraphs that were deleted for the sake of a safer Teen rating. If you want, you can consider it a DVD extras deleted-scenes.**

**This is a work of fiction. Any similarities with anyone, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.**

**Please remember, this is a work of fiction. _Not real life_.**

**"Creativity, not Reality".**

**This message brought to you by:**

**-Crow**

**P.S. I'm sorry if I got a little too insistent/persistent about the whole "Creativity, not Reality" thing, but I really don't want our community to take another hit like that after Wisconsin. Here's a fun little "Omake" to lessen the tension. Enjoy.**

* * *

(Omake)

After the arrest of Gomez de la Muerte (real name unknown), he confessed readily to any locations, people, groups, even politicians involved in his crime ring. He traveled through every country to confess to certain crimes he committed or arranged within their borders.

The child slaves were all freed and sent home. Some were unfortunately deported back to their home, but were escorted the entire way until they made a tearful reunion with their family. The families all received a large compensation courtesy of the confiscated bank accounts of de la Muerte.

The drug ring fell apart as meth lab locations and drop-off points were confessed and the politicians were arrested for bribery and conspiracy. Some even had charges of murder.

The last country they visited was the UK. Gomez had some dealings moving unusual substances for a bunch of weirdos in robes. No one looked into it, though some inquiries by some… unusual men and women were made to certain people who could never clearly remember the people afterwards.

The evening of his final trial (Gomez was sentenced to several lifetimes in a maximum security jail in Mexico), the washed-up drug lord was sent to a local penitentiary to await his transport back to Mexico.

Unfortunately (depending upon your perspective), in the middle of the night, Gomez de la Muerte was slaughtered in his cell. There was no footage, no visitors, and no screams. The inmates were just as surprised as the guards and there was no one else sharing the cell with him.

The body was decapitated and a symbol was carved into the chest; a circle with an X through it.

No one had any idea what it meant and the only one who claimed to have seen the event was the man in the cell right across from him.

Though, no testimony was made as the man was obviously suffering from his medication and possible psychosis. The man was in emergency recovery for severe blood loss and apparent organ removal. The entire time the police were investigating de la Muerte's cell, he was ranting and raving about "faceless freaks", "masked freaks", and "making them give his liver back".


	6. The Balance

**Hey, everyone!**

**This chapter is a continuation of the cliff-hanger from last chapter as well as establishing a headcannon for my Pasta Universe.**

**I want to admit it now, I enjoy the brutality and evil of creepypastas as much as the next fan. Really, I do! But…**

**It just doesn't settle right with me when innocents are killed. It really bothers me when the innocent kid dies or the caring mom dies or the good dad dies. And don't get me started on nice, old people dying horribly.**

**Although I absolutely _love it_ when the evil abusive child molester is pulped or the rapist gets his d*ck ripped off. It's that poetic justice that makes it more justified in my eyes. I mean, it's still Creepypasta, so there'll be some random-people deaths, but I'll focus on more poetic justice.**

**So a large portion of this chapter is dedicated to designing the world Harry lives in and giving a basis and headcannon for the Creepypastas besides just the usual habitual, for-the-Hell-of-it murder and bloodlust. I'm taking a bit of a different approach here to try this out.**

**Also, "Creativity, not Reality". The headcanon I create in this chapter applies to a fictional world where 150 year old wizards are conniving to defeat undead dark lords using the power of an adolescent who prefers to ride on a broomstick to catch magical, flying balls. This is not our reality. **

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

**P.S. Trigger warning for violence and death in 3…2…**

* * *

*Crash!*

The man fell onto the glass panel of his living room coffee table, blood boiling in his veins and leaking out of them simultaneously. These two punks got in his house and they were sure as Hell going to pay for it.

He grabbed one of the shards of glass and slashed at one of the two. He grinned as his shard met its mark right in the arm of the freak with a face mask and goggles, but the kid just chuckled and ripped the shard out without even wincing at the pain, if he felt it.

"Nice shot, sir." He said monotonously. "Now it's our turn."

"WHAT THE F*CK DO YOU FREAKS WANT!?" He shouted. They just bashed down his door and started attacking him. He felt he had a right to at least know why.

The freak with the carved grin and bloodshot eyes leaned close and shoved him back into the mess of shards from the table. He cried out as they made multiple slits on his hands, pretty much rendering them useless.

"We want you to pay for what you did." He replied.

"What I did!?" The man said incredulously. "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"You know _exactly_ what you did, you bastard." The grinning creep said. "We've been watching you for a while. We know all about Jimmy."

The man's blood froze. "Wh-what the Hell are you doing near my son?!" He demanded.

"His _mother's_ son." Facemask corrected. "_She_ got the custody rights. _She_ was a good mother to him. _She_ didn't beat the crap out of him 'just because he was there', you sicko. Meanwhile, _you_ lost the case because a) you're a drunk, b) you're a habitual gambler and tossed away your family's life savings… _twice_, and c) you almost gave the kid severe brain damage from the 'accidental' fall down the stairs."

"What's more." Grinning kid added. "After the court order, _she_ has a right to be around him in a park. _She_ is okay to approach him. _She_ didn't throw him into a tree when the poor kid reacted badly to seeing his "father" grab him from the swings set."

The man growled. Those psychos were following him. Jimmy had been sent to the ER for that incident and he'd fled before the police could ID him. That was over a week ago and the police hadn't been able to pin anything on him. When Jimmy woke up from the coma, he couldn't remember anything beyond going to the park in the first place.

"So what?" He hissed. "He's _my_ son. _My_ flesh and blood. That _bitch_ doesn't have the right to keep him to herself. Ever heard of visitation rights?"

"Yes, and those were summarily confiscated by court of law and a restraining order was issued instead." Facemask said calmly.

"So what?! She had it out for me ever since I married her! The kid's ten, he can make his own f*cking decisions!"

Facemask twitched before murmuring. "He's 16 he can walk by himself *."

"What?" The man said incredulously. _What the f*ck is wrong with this wackjob_? He thought.

Grinning kid spoke for Facemask. "He means; the kid's twelve. You can't even remember your kid's age."

"I don't see what the Hell that has to do wi-"

The man was cut off as Facemask produced two axes from his back and held one just above his jugular. The kid leaned in close and he could smell gasoline fumes and smoke coming off the guy's clothes.

"You know, you remind me of my father." The kid twitched erratically and with one hand, he swiftly removed the facemask and goggles to reveal gray eyes with a psychotic glint and half of his cheek torn off, exposing red gums and bone-white teeth.

He pressed on the blade.

"I _HATED_ MY FATHER!"

* * *

Jeff finished picking some annoying dirt that got under his fingernails and looked up to see Toby panting heavily over the bloody remains of the abusive father. He felt sorry for the landlady of the apartment complex.

Blood and guts were _so_ freaking hard to clean out of white fabrics and carpets. He knew, he had to clean his hoodie, after all.

Still, he patted the twitchy, ticci Toby on the back. "Nice one-liner."

Toby did a complete 180 and was back to his goofy self. "Thanks! I thought it was pretty bad ass, dont'cha think?"

Jeff nodded. "Yeah, but you were way too serious when you did it. Think you need my help?"

He raised his knife and gestured to his carved cheeks while pantomiming a slashing motion.

Toby snickered. "No thanks. I'm already halfway there." He gestured to the gash. He glanced at the body and looked thoughtful. "Except this guy looks pretty down."

Jeff looked at the dead corpse and nodded. "Yeah you're right."

He gripped the head of the body by the hair and leaned in. "Hey, man."

The white-skinned psychopath with scraggly, long hair leered at the man with a self-carved grin marring his face. He stuck the blade of his knife in the corpse's mouth.

"Why so serious?"

* * *

**=Somewhere=**

Director Christopher Nolan woke up in a cold sweat. His wife, Emma, woke up next to him and groggily asked. "What's wrong, Chris."

Still shaken by the sudden vision, he took a few breaths before replying.

"I need to make a movie." He mumbled.

* * *

**=Back to the scene=**

Jeff and Toby stood back, admiring their work.

Jeff was the first to speak. "It's a profound statement of the… fruitlessness of society and how everything and everyone is all going to their inevitable destruction. As you can see, it's represented in the grinning man smiling falsely even though his body is in agony."

Toby nodded thoughtfully before putting in his sophisticated two cents. "I think it reminds me of Hoodie's lasagna."

Jeff snickered, "Yeah, I can see that". He wiped the knife blade on the couch as Toby pulled one of his axes out of the adult's cranium and examined it for chips or wear.

*bzzt*

Jeff pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw the glowing message from Slendy. If possible, his shriveled eyes widened and his grin frowned.

"Well, shit."

* * *

Harry Potter sat huddled in an armchair in the living room of the mansion. He couldn't bring himself to look at Slendy standing just to his left and he could still smell the metallic tinge clinging to his clothes even though none of it landed on him.

The red filled his eyes. The red rug, the red embers in the fireplace, the red rose of Offenderman's portrait, the red of the fabric on a couch. Everything red caught his attention.

Everything around him suddenly felt rotten and sour. The memory of arriving here. Trusting Slenderman. The wonderful meal. E.J.'s kindness.

E.J.'s "snack".

He shuddered.

His stomach heaved at the memory of his first sweet. The red lollipop that E.J. had given him that he was so happy to enjoy earlier suddenly was soured as the red, cherry flavor turned as metallic and bitter as the red blood on Slenderman's suit.

He glanced again at his savior from the Dursley's and felt his heart tug the wrong way.

On one hand, the faceless man saved him from his torment and sadness and gave him a warm home, meals, _a whole entire room_, and as close to a family as he's ever felt he's had.

On the other hand, he just saw his hero eviscerate three people.

He looked away again and his eyes glazed over as he retreated back to his mind. Slenderman was suddenly aware of several occupants standing around, worried for their newest ward after receiving the text he had BEN send.

"_I am going to go clean up and change out of this suit, please don't upset him._" They nodded as Slenderman headed upstairs.

The unusual occupants stood around the shivering seven-year-old warily, unsure how to deal with the emotionally distraught child. They heard the shower go on and run before shutting off quickly. Jeff mentally snickered at Slendy's "power shower" policy that only the faceless entity actually followed, but was brought back to seriousness with the boy in the room.

The front door slammed shut and Sally finally arrived from wherever she had been and ran over to Harry. "Harry! Harry! I heard what happened; are you okay?"

BEN replied for the silent boy. "He's not taking seeing Slendy kill too well."

Sally tilted her head in confusion. "Why? Everyone here does it."

Everyone's eyes widened dramatically and made slashing motions to try to stop the inevitable continuation, but the damage was done. Harry's head snapped up in horror, though he still didn't meet anyone's gazes.

Sally continued. "I mean, I just got back from mine. See?"

L.J. facepalmed as she lifted the severed head of some random woman by her scraggly hair. She'd carried it in with her and no one noticed it nor the new bloodstains on her dress. Harry took one look at the bloody head and threw his own head over the side of the chair.

A *splatter* was heard as he finally lost his breakfast from earlier that day.

Jeff pulled Sally over to him and tossed the head behind the couch as inconspicuously as throwing a severed head across the room could be. Harry sat in his chair and shivered violently, a little bit of spittle and vomit clung to his chin which he ignored.

Slendy came down wearing a new, clean suit and his skin was once more blood-free. He "smelled" the vomit (don't ask how) and could see the new blood on Sally along with the trickle of red pooling underneath his couch. Putting 2 and 2 together, he counted down from 10 before he did something he'd regret later.

He didn't even get to 8 when Harry bolted right past him and up the stairs. He heard the footsteps and tracked them all the way to Harry's room before the door closed firmly. He turned to address everyone gathered around him.

"_Really? I was gone for five minutes._" He deadpanned.

"I'm sorry, Slendy." Sally whispered tearfully.

"_It's not your fault, Sally… well, not entirely. We just need to help Harry cope right now. Harry was an innocent before this and watching death is difficult. Killing is even worse on the psyche-_"

"Ain't that the truth." Jeff mumbled.

"_-But nevertheless_," Slendy continued "_we must help him comprehend exactly what we do. It's not good for him to keep this bottled up. Especially with his… unique condition_."

BEN interrupted. "Yeah, Slendy. You keep saying he's got potential to be one of us. What's the big deal with hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-aaaa-gieush—uud—wu-t—d-iwsitit-d-w—s-s-."

BEN's appearance was suddenly distorted. Patches of himself became colored blocks and he twitched spontaneously between poses like reality itself lagged around him. Several others rushed over to try to help him, but among them, Smile suddenly collapsed pawing at his ears like a dog blocking out a dog whistle. Several light bulbs flickered and the radio in the corner whirred with broken static.

"What's going on?" Jeff called out over the noise. Slendy was about to answer when it all stopped and BEN fell to his knees, panting as a virtual sheen of sweat coated his forehead.

"_Oh, good. He calmed down._" Slendy said aloud, mostly to himself.

"He calmed down?! Are you saying _Harry_ did that?!" E.J. cried out incredulously.

"_Yes. His… abilities are linked to emotions at this point in his life. Those outbursts tend to react mainly with electrical or electricity-based objects. So, BEN being a computer virus was affected the most because he is primarily electrical-and-code-based. Smile, while being internet-based was only partially affected because he has a more solidified form. The rest was just akin to electrical interference_."

The group stared wide-eyed at the information and a few glanced upwards in the general direction of the room where Harry had locked himself in. Jeff looked up in a sudden idea. "Hey, Masky, you're good with chemistry. Why don't you make some "happy pills" or mood stabilizers for him. That'll help, won't it?"

Jeff's idea withered under Slenderman's eyeless glare. "_Timothy's skillset is in radiation poisoning medication and a few antipsychotic medications. He knows how to make mood-altering chemicals to avoid… withdrawal symptoms for himself. He is not allowed to create them for the rest of you and, even if he were, WE ARE NOT DRUGGING A SEVEN YEAR OLD BOY!"_

Jeff held up his hands in surrender and backed away from the irate Slenderman. The entity smoothed his suit and lapels before continuing. "_Now, I will talk with him and try to help him understand why we do what we do. In the meantime… please just don't screw anything up too badly._"

Slenderman left the tenants in the Living room to do whatever they did. Meanwhile, he began walking up stairs towards his newest ward's room.

On the way, he saw the sconce lights on the wall flickering and felt the presence of Harry's abilities beginning to lose control. Thankfully, it seemed to be localized around him, so BEN and Smile were probably alright downstairs.

The portraits decorating the wall were rattling against their nail and a few doors were creaking on their hinges as they opened and closed on their own.

He sighed as he approached Harry's door and saw the handle jiggling on its own. Behind the door, he heard harry crying softly, muffled by what was probably a pillow or comforter.

He grasped the handle, working against its constant movement and forced the door open. True to his guess, Harry was on his bed, with his face buried in his pillow. Slenderman saw his shoulders shake with the muffled sobs.

"_Harry?_"

The boy's head shot up, wide bloodshot eyes took in the tall figure in his doorframe. Slenderman was disturbed to see the fear in Harry's eyes, but decided on a different method to approach him.

His form wavered and the white-haired, six-foot human glamour took his place. Harry's eyes were still as wide as dinner plates, but Slendy was happy to see some amount of amazement instead of fear.

"H-how-"

"It's called a 'glamour', Harry. It's a sort of disguise. Almost all of us have one, or at least a physical costume or covering, like the Rake's. I thought it might help with talking to you." The entity's glamour allowed his voice to emanate from his mouth. While still conceptually mental and telepathic, it was definitely more human-sounding than before.

"I- I'm not sure I want to talk." Harry admitted.

Slenderman sighed (and it actually sounded like it had breath behind it, too) "You shouldn't keep this bottled up, Harry. It's not good for your mental health."

Harry averted his eyes, but didn't object when the glamoured being sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. "C-Can I ask something else?"

"Of course, Harry."

"Are the glamorous things how you order pizza?" He asked quietly.

Slendy chuckled. "Glamours, Harry, not glamorous. And yes, if you hadn't offered to pick up the pizza, then Jeff or BEN or myself would've gone in our glamoured forms to avoid suspicion."

Harry nodded. Slendy waited as Harry slowly opened into the conversation. "So, everyone has a glamour?"

"Well, not everyone. Bigfoot for example just hulks around the redwoods, hairy as always." He was glad to see Harry's eyes widen with amazement at the mention of the cryptid (or Steven as he preferred). "It takes a certain degree of humanity or human-esque appearance and power to pull off a successful glamour. For example, The Rake is too inhuman for a glamour. He uses a fedora and trench coat instead whenever he's out in public. However, both of the Jacks and myself, while not being entirely human, appear human enough that we are able to produce one."

Harry's tension started ebbing away as the conversation continued. Slendy knew it was a risk, but he began the topic. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it, Harry?"

Harry's shoulders tensed, but he didn't shy away as much anymore. He turned to the entity and whispered. "…why?..."

Slenderman expected it, but it didn't get any easier than his first impression. So, he began with the beginning. Always a good place to start. (**AN: Brace yourself; headcanon time.**)

"The world is a chaotic place, Harry. People prefer to believe there are only two sides; black or white, yin or yang, good or evil. However, they are both equally unstable. An old Cherokee story talks about inner struggle by comparing it to a fight between two wolves which represent good and evil. That is an apt analogy for both. Both are wolves, sly and cunning, and both are capable of horrific destruction caused in either of their names.

"The white wolf is perpetually fighting the black wolf and in the process causes damage to themselves and the world around them. Cities are ripped apart in their wake, men are driven mad by their struggle, and both are corrupt to some level and will do whatever it takes so they can see their end through.

"However, there is a third option. The Gray." Slenderman took out a small notepad with a design on it showing a black band fading into a white band. He pointed to the broad gray area between.

"The Gray is neither good nor evil; black nor white, it is the balance between. It's the "gray area" of things both literally and figuratively. Gray comes in many shades, but the closest to pure gray is the furthest from pure white and pure black; the unstable extremes.

"The Gray wolf is a perfect combination of the two wolves struggling. It is neither destructive nor dangerous. It is at peace with itself and the world around it."

Slender saw Harry soaking this all in and opened his notepad before drawing a quick sketch of a clock with a pendulum.

"Society is very fragile, Harry. It needs good, light, and morals to function or else it falls to complete chaos, but the universe favors chaos. A building will crumble if energy is not put into it to ensure its continued existence. Iron will rust to powder if left to the elements… A room will get dirty unless a parent scolds the child to clean it. The Creator knows Jeff's room is a perfect example."

Slenderman was relieved that the light joke got a small smile from the boy, and continued.

"However, utopia is far away at the moment. Humanity is just not ready to accept such a responsibility or such a concept. We know, we've tried.

"Early on in humanity's history, we worked together to eradicate evil, corruption, and misery. To create a "utopia" for all of mankind to flourish in. But it didn't go to plan.

"When the utopia was raised, it was sustained for a time, but corruption seeped in. Greed overtook hearts and the lusts of power drove the mortal inhabitants mad. Within hours of the first notion of corruption, the entire society fractured and collapsed.

"We decided, then, that humanity was not ready for such an endeavor. They needed to develop themselves mentally, spiritually, and emotionally if they had any hope of conquering the corruption and sin in their hearts."

He returned to his pendulum clock drawing, which Harry looked at.

"The society you live in works much like a clock's pendulum when not in conflict. When the world becomes too dark, someone will stand up and lead the light."

"Like the knights in those stories?" Harry asked quietly. Slenderman smiled as he showed willingness to talk.

"Yes, Harry, much like the young Champion leading the resistance against tyranny. However, the opposite is also very true. If society is too light, then they become overconfident, lazy, and weak from prosperity and a corrupt soul sees its flaws and tries to bring it all under his own command. Whether he knows it or not, he brings it under the black banner of selfishness and power. Both are agents of chaos.

"Back in the Medieval era, this pendulum shifted frequently. One king's reign would be of peace and prosperity before an individual usurped the throne and took it for himself. Then, after a few generations of toil and tyranny, the "chosen one of light" would rear up and fight the darkness. Thereby causing the entire process to oscillate back and forth, adding to history books, but the humans never learned and it was inevitably a repeated pattern of the same, exact thing.

"We decided that the world could not continue this way and that balance was needed. We sense the pendulum's swing and do what we must to drive it to the Gray until the time when humanity is ready to create a better society. Until then, they must learn and grow under the Gray.

"For the past few millennia, the pendulum has been forcing itself against the boundaries of chaos. We discovered that the only way to retain the semblance of balance was to remove those who assisted the decline.

"We kill for the Balance, Harry. The world would fall to primordial chaos if we did not."

Harry was silent as he processed this. Slenderman added on.

"We also kill because the humans trespass where they shouldn't be. For instance, my forest or BEN's websites. The humans go there of their own volition and it's within our rights to kill them in those instances."

Harry nodded, it made sense, though he still had questions. "Why did you take me away?"

"Ah, yes. Throughout my existence I have loathed those who take their blackened hearts out on the innocence of children. Children deserve choice and a 'clean slate' for life. Abuse and hurt usually causes their hearts to have a tendency to sway towards the darkness throughout their lives. I have taken it upon myself to seek out as many of those individuals and, if possible, remove them from their environment to a new home.

"I gained quite the reputation in Germany back in the day. I was a 'child snatcher' and 'evil demon' for relocating a few neglected or abused children to new homes or murdering the occasional child molesting traveler. I regret nothing as my methods were effective, though my reputation was not improved."

The young boy tilted his head. "What's 'child molesting'?"

"Ah, er- um…" The entity swore in his head. He did _not_ want to explain this concept this early. "It's a… a very bad thing that hurts children."

"Oh. Okay."

Slenderman's shoulders dropped in relief. He figured he'd be safe for another six or seven years before The Talk would have to surface for the only aging, prepubescent male in the mansion. Pushing that to the side, he continued. "I saw you and I knew you were being horribly hurt by your family. I could sense great power and potential in you which would attract those who would zealously use you to force society into the chaos of the Extremes; Light or Dark. That's why I observed you for almost two months before I took you away-"

"Two months!" Harry exclaimed. His thoughtful expression gave way to anger. "You just watched me being tossed around and beaten by the Dursleys and you never did _anything_!"

Slendy felt another pulse of energy from Harry and heard a lightbulb from a lamp in the hallway burst. He put a hand comfortingly on Harry's shoulder. "Yes, Harry. Yes, I did. I'm sorry I did not help you. I truly am, but we have a Code to abide by."

Harry's face showed Slender that he did not comprehend entirely, so he elaborated on the important bits of the Code. "There must be a just cause for removal of the human child. There must be an observation period of no less than three months during which time, evidence is gathered to cement the justified removal. There must be no direct interaction with the child prior to or during the three month observation period; sightings are allowed, but discouraged for anyone other than the child.

"In the event that the health, safety, or life of the child is in danger, this waiting period may be reduced and instant removal may be authorized on the grounds that the danger they were in is satisfactory material for removal in the first place.

"Finally, the victim must leave of his/her own volition. The victim cannot be forceably removed from their location. The victim cannot be interacted with in a way that would force their removal, such as dragging them away or burning the house behind them. Finally, indirect aid is acceptable if it removes obstacles affecting the victim's choice. In this case, it was the lock on your cupboard."

Harry frowned. "But why couldn't you take me earlier?"

Slenderman sighed. "I would have if I could, but not even I am above the laws of The Council."

Harry nodded in grudging acceptance. Slenderman expected some degree of reluctance and decided to continue. "Another part of the code revolves around our secrecy. We prefer to be impartial and under-the-radar of human society.

"That is partly my job. These days with everyone having those… "camera-phones" and what-not, they can find more evidence of our existence and before we even realize it, there are already YouTube videos and Reddit pictures of us plastered all across the Internet, though thankfully few, far-between, and mostly kept in the obscure parts of the web. Before, it was just journal entries and paintings which were not reliable evidence for society to search for us or know about us. That's why I've been a bit more active these days.

"I try to find these filmmakers and intruders and use a certain… 'aura' or sorts that I have. Scientifically, we call it sigma radiation. It's very helpful in ruining magnetic tapes and digital recordings, but it can also cause… mental complications to exposure. Sometimes I use it to my advantage to reduce the credibility of the viewer… to be quite frank, the word of a madman is not as reliable."

Harry nodded sadly. "I guess. What do you do to make them crazy?"

The glamoured entity shrugged. "I don't really do anything. I just stand there, emitting the radiation. Masky tells me that it causes blood hemorrhaging, paranoia, nervousness, frustration, and ear-ringing after some time. Then, they eventually just… fall apart."

Harry looked panicked. "Ear ringing? But when you were at Privet Drive, I heard a lot of ear ringing when you were around! Am I going to go crazy too?!"

"Easy, easy, Harry." Slenderman calmed him down. "No, you will not go crazy. People are just affected after long exposure and you were nowhere near a dangerous dosage. That night, I was just so angry with the Dursleys that I accidentally emitted more radiation than usual. I'm sorry."

"'s okay." Harry mumbled. Relieved he wasn't going nuts, but still thinking about what Slenderman told him. "When you talked about 'human society' you included me sometimes, I think. Does that mean I'm not human?"

"No, Harry. You're as human as they come. Beings like Seed Eater, Laughing Jack, and myself are not actually human. However, you are similar to Toby, Jeff, or Sally in that you are human (or were human in Sally's case), but have something that sets you apart from the rest of society.

"That's why we take those like Jeff, Sally, and BEN in and bring them here. Their chaos is too unstable to be left to their own devices. They would eventually destroy the world if they killed everyone they encountered.

"They are cast away from society. They are beyond help. Beyond hope. Beyond Humanity. Therefore, we help them contain their chaos before it gets out of hand. Primarily, we use their violence and bloodlust and redirect it as an outlet to maintain the Gray." Slenderman glanced at his youngest ward and saw he understood, so he continued.

"Though sometimes our interference has some… unusual effects. For instance, Toby, Jeff, Timothy, and Brian are technically what I call a 'Proxy' and a side effect they picked up is slowed aging. So, it's likely that they'll still look to be in their young teens when you, yourself, are that age."

"They don't grow up?" Harry asked, curious.

Slender chuckled. "In more ways than one, with Tobias's childishness." He was relieved to hear Harry give a small chuckle. "Now, are you feeling better? I'm not saying you have to enjoy killing. I just want you to understand why we do it."

Harry gave a small nod. Slenderman added on. "I'll talk with Doctor Halloway to let her know."

"The bird lady who smells like flowers?" Harry asked.

Slenderman remembered Jeanette's appearance. She preferred wearing a black, wide-brim hat with black gloves, a black dress, and a tan plague doctor's mask. He remembered that plague doctors stuffed herbs in their masks traditionally in the belief that it would ward away "bad air" that caused disease.

So, she did resemble a bird and it was logical she would smell very strongly of the herbs she put in her mask. "Yes, Harry, though I hope you do not call her that."

"I don't."

Slenderman nodded and sat up from the bedside. Harry stopped shivering and looked much less distraught. He started walking out the door when he heard Harry call out.

"Slendy? Earlier, you said that a lot of people around here aren't human or _were_ human. Am I still human. Even after the… freaky thing." He whispered the last bit fearfully.

The glamoured entity turned back to look at the boy. "Yes, Harry. You're as human as they come. Just with a few extra gifts."

"Gifts?"

"Yes, something that is entirely your own or that fate has given you. It's perfectly normal here."

"Not freaky?" Harry asked timidly, the Dursleys' words were still stained in his mind.

"No, unique."

Harry nodded. "Unique." He liked the sound of it.

Slenderman was glad when the child smiled truly for the first time. He shut the door behind him and removed the glamour before heading away from the room towards the attic steps.

He opened the door which revealed a rickety, wooden stairwell to the dusty attic space. Some occupants used the space if they preferred the dust and isolation, but at the moment they were either elsewhere or out.

He went to the back of the room and pulled out a heavy steam-train trunk in the back area. He opened it and pulled out his old, yellowed journals from his time in Europe.

He leafed through the entries until he found one he took while still in Germany almost a century ago. In it, he met a traveler who performed unusual feats and he managed to overhear a location in England called "Diagon Alley" and learned of similar places all across the world.

He had visited the "Alley" once he tracked someone down to the location. From there, he had managed to… "borrow" some books from a bookstore or an odd person and had long forgotten about their contents until now.

He took the books under his arm and walked downstairs to the library. He picked up the first one on the stack, "The Realm of Magick Moste Powerful", opened it, and began to read about the magical world of Harry Potter.

* * *

The American Department of Magical Affairs (ADMA) was frantically trying to track the mystery child who had a level 7 magical outburst in a park in California. Everyone who arrived at the scene found no one there and the police were already closing in because some kids talked about an abduction.

None of the children registered as magical, using a discrete wand-scan, so they assumed that the abducted child was the magical one.

This caused floo calls as far as New York and Florida to try to contain this. An abduction was enough for a wide-spread search, but an abduction of a level 7 magical child was something far more serious. It could potentially be the equivalent of obtaining and training a nuke with the ability to inconspicuously move in the target area, detonate without the need for remote contact, survive the blast, and be ready in a few days to do it again all without linking it to any one country or organization.

An international threat.

Naturally, they informed the President about it and he began organizing and deploying anyone he could to deal with the potential threat.

From the children in the area, they managed to draw together a picture of a seven year old with green eyes, black hair, and an odd scar on his forehead that none of the kids could remember the exact shape of clearly.

The evening of the abduction, police reports revealed a crime ring being destroyed in an unusual manner. Naturally, anything unusual got the attention of the X-files, the CIA, and the ADMA.

ADMA managed to translate the Spanish kids held in the cages at the time of the incident and they all confirmed that there was a child who matched the description who was in the warehouse during the incident. However, it was what followed after that wasn't officially on the record released to the public.

The children kept referencing Death (as a person or figure) and how it killed the others, but took the mystery child. When pressed, all they said about him was "El Muerte es un hombre esbelto quien es muy alto, pero sin una cara."

Death is a slender man who is very tall, but without a face.

The police force and ADMA were confused by it, but the kidnapped witnesses all said the same things. De La Muerte said something similar in his ramblings during his incarceration, but he wasn't able to elaborate.

What's more, the official police report said that the dogs did a perimeter check and could not pick up anything in a five mile radius, leaving them clueless and stumped. Eventually, the aurors of ADMA returned to the main building and monitored any more activity bursts to try to track down the missing Level 7.

* * *

An investigation team focused on the description of the mysterious "man with no face", but no leads brought any real person on file or suspected. One had an idea to take it literally. Through a few internet searches and obscure leads, he discovered the local folklore of a small city in rural New York State. From his research, the "Slenderman" mythos fit the description.

They decided to investigate the area with a few interns to see if they could find anything out about the place and, maybe, find out if it's a copycat human using the mythos for some odd reason or another that may help in tracking him down.

A few plane tickets later and two investigators and four interns were on their way to the New York countryside.

* * *

The intern breathed heavily as he sprinted through the dense forest.

The moonlight didn't provide much light, but it was enough to see and avoid a few roots trying to trip him up.

The others didn't make it. They were taken.

Taken by _him_.

He warned them that the "No Trespassers: Private Property" fence wasn't just a ploy and they should've left it alone.

Either way, now it was too late.

For all of them.

His hand tightened and the seven papers in his hand crinkled noisily in the silent forest.

Well, essentially silent. Shortly after they picked up the first page, all forest life stopped. The wildlife was silenced, the birds stopped crying out, squirrels scrambled into tree branches, and every cricket stopped chirping. Then, a loud banging sound was heard echoing through the forest with a deep groaning.

They continued wandering through the forest until their first intern was taken. That was the first time they saw… _It_.

They bolted after that. He was the only one who kept taking the pages as he saw them, but the others slowly went mad around him.

One of his fellow interns, one he had a crush on in the office, was acting out of it for hours until she walked willingly to the _thing_ and vanished. He kept running.

His nose started bleeding and he distinctly heard the ringing in his ears getting louder with each passing second.

He needed it!

He had to escape!

It was the only wa-

THERE!

On the trunk of a tree was another page! A sweet, glorious page fluttering on a nail like a beautiful butterfly! It had the freaky design on it, but what the Hell, it was his salvation!

He sprinted towards it and ripped it off the nail, grinning.

Then, he _felt_ it behind him. He turned around to see the _thing_ standing there, looking at him. He couldn't help himself and he chuckled. "What now, freak?! Ha! I got all 8 pages, you bastard! You can't touch me! I'm INVINCIBLE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The figure regarded him and tilted its faceless, blank head.

"Haha… hahaha… ha…. Haaaa…. That's not how it works, is it?"

The Slenderman shook his head as black tendrils wriggled from his back.

* * *

Slenderman was in his casual work clothes… some torn and slightly scuffed suits that wouldn't clean out. So he used them for work. It didn't matter if they had any more holes in it.

He dealt with the trespassers last night and returned Sally's drawings, to the ghost girl's delight and relief.

He finished picking some of the late squash that survived October and dumped a bit more fertilizer against the roots of the blackberry bush. The bonemeal was working wonders for the herb garden as well and Eyeless Jack was more than grateful to add the herbs and spices to his recipes. He set aside some to apply next year.

Harry had calmed down enough to start talking to the other occupants and the faceless entity was glad he had adjusted better than he expected.

He reached back up in the tree branches and ripped off a bloody limb from the impaled body of one of the main investigators. He did a quick background check; they were a small, nobody freelance investigation organization. Probably hoping to find a big lead to rub in the others' faces.

He sensed their arrival from an alert ward on the outer perimeter of the forest and watched them trespass beyond the normal fence boundary. He continued to spy on them from afar, careful to not be observed, but the moment they stole Sally's drawings, he knew it would classify under "breaking, entering, and stealing".

So, as he informed Harry, it was within his rights by The Council to take action.

The six human intruders were now dangling from the trees, a sharpened branch impaling them through the chest. He kept the macabre "orchard" and his personal garden away from Harry and Sally's play areas and well away from the mansion. He was certain Toby would set it on fire by mistake. And he'd be damned before any of his wards burned his Elderberry bushes.

The entity tossed the dripping hunk of flesh in a basket at his side. He'd already put in the fragile eyeball tissues in a mini-cooler for Jack, a couple hearts and kidneys for the Meat Fridge along with several fillets of various cuts. Finally, a nice, meaty femur bone was wrapped in some cloth for Smile to chew on.

As he wandered through the forest, he chuckled darkly at the memory of the last kill. That pesky intern was very adept at running and hiding. It was rather amusing, in retrospect.

But still, he must have cracked under the pressure.

After all, how did that young man get it in his head that 8 pieces of paper could stop a monster?

* * *

Nymphadora "Don't-call-me-Nymphadora" Tonks sat in a muggle café with Kingsley Shacklebolt while holding her latte in her hand on her first interning year on the Auror Force. Her muggleborn father got her hooked on the drink one summer when she was 15. Kingsley was curious about the muggle confection as most normal wizards just took tea or coffee with standard additions like milk or sugar. Then again, most wizards didn't have the creativity to mix coffee with toffee, caramel, whipped cream, or chocolate.

They sipped their drinks, savoring the flavor while thinking back on their current case.

The disappearance of Harry Potter.

Dumbledore was furious these days. All of his systems stopped working. Every single tracking mechanism he had was useless. The only thing they knew was that Harry had somehow escaped from his relatives house and Dumbledore was adamant that he return there as soon as possible.

They didn't question why because… well, he's Dumbledore.

Tonks glanced up at the TV and watched the news reporter give the latest on the capture and trials of the drug lord Gomez de la Muerte. "Hey, Kingsley, did you hear about that case from the DMLE?" She gestured to the device.

Kingsley was well up-to-date on muggle technology for a pureblood wizard. A little more-so than Arthur Weasley, as he understood most of the proper names for the devices and the basics of operating them. He turned around and glanced at the TV for a few seconds before nodding.

"Yes, apparently that muggle was smuggling wizarding contraband around Europe. Smart tactic, too. Most aurors wouldn't think to check muggle ships and airplanes for such items. The obliviation squad is ready if anyone looks too closely at the exact nature of the contraband." He sipped his coffee.

Tonks glanced up hopefully. "Hey, maybe the muggles have some kind of tracking device to help us locate Harry. I mean, Dumbledore assured us he was still alive so maybe-"

"No, Tonks." Kingsley replied in his deep voice. "I've already looked into all forms of tracking they have. The best they can do is implant something called a "tracking chip" and that's only if you _have_ the person with you."

He shook his head and took another sip of his beverage. "No, the best we can do is to keep searching and hope we find him. Even then, I'm not sure what Dumbledore intends to do with Harry Potter. I heard his relatives' house burnt down and they were… incapable of caring for Harry."

"Incapable?" Tonks raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure myself. That was what Dumbledore told me. He also informed me that he would be taking measures to ensure the house is rebuilt exactly as before. Dumbledore's a brilliant wizard, though, so I wouldn't put it past him to discover some _reparo_ spell that works on ashes."

"Of course! He's Dumbledore." Tonks agreed, it was simple as that.

They paid for their drinks and threw away the cups afterwards. They still had yet to search some of the parks in Surrey, so that was the next step. After that, they were going to look into Diagon Alley, Gringotts, and even Knocturne Alley.

Just as they walked away from the café window, the TV broadcast showed an image of the Mystery Boy of the de la Muerte case. An accurate drawing of a skinny, black-haired, green-eyed child with round spectacles and a British accent who went by the name "Harry" was plastered up for everyone to see (save anyone remotely associated with the wizarding world).

What Tonks and Kingsley neglected was a silencing ward. The café was nearly empty and everyone was wrapped in their own conversations. Even then, they spoke low enough that no one would hear given how far they were from everyone else.

However, they didn't take into account that a certain occupant had rather… unnatural hearing.

A "man" in a fedora and trench coat got up from his booth and left some money and a tip on the table before departing. As he passed by a rather attractive waitress who eyed him suspiciously, he grinned and allowed his teeth to glint in the fluorescent light. The sight of her paling face was enough to know it worked.

He walked away from the café and found a broken-down telephone stuck on a wall. It was an old-fashioned payphone that was not enclosed in a box, but left out to collect dirt and grime.

He picked up the phone and heard nothing but silence on the other end. Then, the silence was broken by a haunting voice saying "Hello? Hello? Hello?" over and over.

The "man" rapped on the receiver in quick code and the voice stopped its usual scare tactic before it said. "How may I help you today?"

The "man" growled into the receiver. "I'd like an international message to the Head Guy in New York. You know the one. When you get him, tell him I've got news about Harry Potter."

* * *

**AN: The line towards the top marked with an * was a quote from the original Ticci Toby story by Kastoway on deviantart.**

**The headcannon for Slenderman's reasons was specifically inspired by EverymanHybrid "Episode #5" where just before the lights blew out, Slendy walked by the camera and almost seemed to do a double-take after he "sensed" a camera that caught him walking.**

**Jeanette Halloway was inspired strongly by a drawing titled "Black Death" by Deviantart username Lithium-Tears. It's a really amazing work and I recommend looking it up really quick on Google.**

**So, yeah, this is the headcannon of the Pasta Universe. It justifies the killing, allows them to be psychopathic murderers if need be or sociable teenagers/adults, and it helps with the theme.**

**Yep, that's right! This is 100% a Manipulative Dumbledore fic! I stumbled across my first one months ago. It was an FMA/Harry Potter x-over and I really got hooked on the character design for Dumbles. Ever since, I just couldn't stop looking back at the books and seeing how much _sense_ those fics made and how much Dumbledore was interfering with things.**

**This allows me to villainize both the extreme Dark side (aka Voldie) and the extreme Light side (aka Dumbledore). We'll see how it works out, but I'm looking forward to it!**

**Disclaimers: I don't own a single Pasta creature. The psychologist was essentially the character developed by Lithium-Tears (really cool work, by the way). I definitely don't own The Dark Knight, though it was _amazing_! And finally, I (like everyone else on this site) don't own Harry Potter…**

**Oh, and I realized that the inspiration for the glamours came almost directly from the famous Creepypasta deviantart user, ComicKit. While Slenderman's glamour may not be as epic as a toaster with the Zelda treasure chest theme (see the Pasta Monsters youtube videos), it still came out alright.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the installment and I hope to update soon.**

**Sincerely,**

**The Smiling Crow**


	7. Kagome Kagome

**AN: Before you get too far in this chapter, know that I am not really a major "otaku" person. I find the culture interesting, but I don't have the time (nor money) to fuel any real obsession in anime. But I do find it fun.**

**I chose Japan because I wanted to bring Kagome Kagome back into this and I wanted to incorporate some infamous characters. The "-san" suffix and similar things are cultural to the region, so don't expect Harry to start using them frequently, learn kanji, start wielding katanas, or start shouting "Dattebayo!" every other sentence.**

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

* * *

Slenderman walked around the house that night. Harry and Sally were playing in the living room with some crayons and paper. Jeff and Smile were out for a walk in the forest. Eyeless Jack was downstairs running a few experiments while Laughing Jack was out on… business.

He was glad to see Harry acclimating to the tenants' lifestyle. A few more visited and he became acquainted with them as well with a minor incident involving Harry and Mr. Widemouth, but Slendy was firm with the Furby-like creature and told him not to shove him to his death from the roof or convince him to juggle knives… _again_.

He groaned internally at the memory of finding Jeffery, Laughing Jack, and Widemouth chanting Harry on. Jeff even went as far as lending three of his sharpest kitchen knives for the attempt. Thankfully, Harry's abilities allowed him to levitate the knives in place when they started falling in a disastrous direction.

Needless to say, Jeff's "babies" were confiscated with the self-mutilated sociopath clinging to his ankle pleading like an impudent toddler the entire afternoon.

Seeing Harry's display of… "magic" encouraged Slendy to do more in-depth reading of the books he had on the Wizarding World and, frankly, he did not like what he saw. He could only pray that their society had improved in the hundred-plus years since he'd stolen –er "borrowed" the books. Bigotry, racism, sexism, severe isolationism, political corruption, special privileges to the elite families, denying jobs to those of common ancestry, the list went on. And even then, it didn't include the long history of Dark Lords systematically destroying the society one reign-of-terror at a time.

And now, there was news of this "Dumbledore".

He had contacted the London Fog Stalker a little while after Harry arrived to monitor any news that came through involving the boy. He trusted the Stalker to keep this between themselves and not involve the Council. If they found out they may take… action.

One that involved "eliminating the risk" Harry posed to their operation.

The Stalker informed him of the overheard conversation between two magicals at the café. It disturbed Slendy to know that these witches and wizards were on a man-hunt, er, boy-hunt at the word of just one man without a just reason, cause, or method. They just blindly accepted his orders as-is.

Truly disturbing.

What's more, apparently, he was adamant that Harry return to the abusive custody of the Dursleys. Slenderman had no clue how the mysterious wizard would do it, but he knew Dumbledore must be someone very powerful or very corrupt to be able to remove the Dursleys from their sentence.

He sighed internally, realizing that either they must cling to their magical children like a greedy octopus or Harry must be an important figure in wizarding culture… He doubted the last one, but still why go to such great lengths to bring one child back to a certain environment?

Then again, if they valued children so much, why place them with abusive non-magicals?

He shook his head. Too many things contradicted at the moment. He just watched over Harry and Sally as Sally showed him a picture of E.J. and Harry showed her an image of… a flying motorcycle?

He smiled and shrugged. At least Harry still had his imagination.

That same imagination came in handy with Dr. Halloway. He'd called in a favor with Jeanette and she came over on Wednesdays to oversee Harry. She was one of the few of their kind who had an adequate background in psychiatric care… who was not severely unstable or unsuitable for children.

He didn't care to imagine what would've happened if he'd, say, gone to any one of the mental institutions housing… "peculiar" doctors. He could reasonably guess Harry would return from a session sporting a few extra limbs, an unnerving glass eyeball, and possibly missing a few rather important organs. If he returned at all.

Harry was initially reserved when talking with Dr. Jeanette Halloway, but she encouraged him to play a few cleverly disguised mind-games to see how he was. From the "first-word-to-come-to-mind" game to drawing whatever he wanted or drawing certain emotions, it all helped build up a profile of Harry's mind. He was obviously distrustful of most humans (though his immediate trust in non-humans was rather disturbing, she admitted) and he still flinched slightly at contact, human or not.

That had been what the first few weeks had been. Mostly overcoming abuse and helping him come out of his shell. After the… "incident" with the Drug Lord, Dr. Halloway helped Harry fill in the gaps that Slendy's talk didn't cover. Particularly when he discovered one aspect of the murders that hadn't crossed Slenderman's mind at the time; hunting.

It was true that some of their kind needed a more… carnivorous diet and hunting was the only way to find it. Though, they tended to restrict themselves to the more "evil" of society or the trespassers, especially when times are scarce, they did need the occasional person or two who was just a "mildly bad" in terms of the Balance… and sometimes just go after the occasional college camper for a cliché "cabin-in-the-woods" slaughter.

Jeanette handled it perfectly and Harry had recovered. He was progressing wonderfully and had even had an interest in learning that Jeanette encouraged Slendy to supply and develop.

After the incident, Slenderman's analysis of the books managed to correlate his magic with emotions and knew that Jeanette would be the best to turn to in that instance.

He met with her in private to discuss Harry's magic.

* * *

**Flashback…**

"_Jeanette, a word if I may_?" Slenderman asked formally. The masked woman nodded.

"Of course, Slenn. Harry why don't you go play in the music room for a bit, okay?" She replied with a slight English accent. Harry nodded and ran off.

If he could, Slenderman would be grimacing at his nickname. What's more, judging from how he _knew_ Jeanette was smiling behind that blank bird-like mask, she knew it irritated him as well. She sat down and offered some tea she set up for Harry's session. "So, Slenn, what's the matter?"

"_Please do not call me that_." He deadpanned. "_It's bad enough when my idiotic brother does it_."

"Which one? The cute one, the gay one, or the sexy one?" She said, "smiling" again. For a female doctor, much less one who "lived" back in Victorian England, she sometimes had one of the raunchiest minds and most vulgar mouths he'd come across.

"_Grr. Please, Jeanette, this is rather serious_." The unseen grin disappeared and she set into a much more professional position. "_Now, Harry is rather… special… now, please keep an open mind_."

Her shoulders shook with a quick laugh. "Please, Slendy. I'm talking to a faceless entity that's been around since before the dinosaurs and I've helped a computer virus with the mind of a 9 year old get over a 17 year old online girlfriend breaking up with him… _without_ him drowning her in retaliation. I can keep an open mind."

"_Harry performs… magic. Real magic_." Her back straightened in surprise, but she didn't interrupt. "_Now, I want you to keep this a secret, but in my travels I have encountered another society. A secret society hidden within and underneath the human's society. They call themselves "witches" and "wizards" and apparently are particularly arrogant about their shared powers to manipulate the universe as they see fit_."

"Oh, I bet the Council _loved_ hearing about that one. A bunch of mental lunatics pissing around with the Balance is sure to make their Monday."

Slenderman's "eyes" looked away and (somehow) Jeanette noticed. "_Well… you see… I haven't-… actually told them-_"

"You WHAT!" She shrieked. "Slendy, that's serious information! The Council ought to know. It might be where all the abnormalities with the Balance keep coming from."

"_That's the thing. I know it comes from them_." She gasped. "_Their manipulations, their backwards thinking, their stuck-in-the-past methods. I think it all contributes negatively to the Balance. When I visited back in the early 1800s, they still revered Medieval times and lived like it was 900 A.D. all over again! I can tell you what turbulent times those were. And if their progress at that time is any indication, things have not improved. If anything, it's gotten worse._"

"Then why don't you tell someone?"

"_Because despite their flaws they're too much for us. They could decimate our forces with a few simple spells. Even our most skilled killers couldn't help balance that society out. We would need to understand what we are up against before even dreaming of incorporating ourselves into that society."_

"What do you, personally, want to do, Balance aside?"

"_Personally? I want nothing to do with this world at all. Based upon how it has been going, I predict their society may self-destruct within a century or two if their ideals still hold up despite the raging progress of the world around them. But Harry is one of them and he has their powers which he needs help with."_

"…Which only one of those 'Wizard' people can help with."

"_Yes, but I want to avoid contact with that world for as long as possible. Though, I've learned through a few texts that there's a special, "prestigious" school in Britain who may seek him out shortly after his 11th birthday. Though, we will deal with that when the time comes."_

She was lost in thought as she processed this. She looked up in a sudden thought. "Wait… so what do you want me to do with this? What's all this have to do with Harry's state of mind?"

"_As I said, Harry is magical and from what I understand it's an energy-based phenomenon, but it's tied to their minds, souls, and bodies as well-_"

"And emotions, I'm guessing?" She inquired.

"_Yes. Whenever he is distressed or in danger, his magic saves him or reacts strongly. I saw trees ripped apart from his power just because he felt like he was in danger. What's more, it reacts badly with the code-based tenants such as BEN and Smile. But at the same time, this is a deadly force to be reckoned with and I fear for his safety as well as anyone around him._"

"So, what you need is for him to have more control over this power?" She summarized.

"_Yes. It would help me sleep at night to know that Harry is not a danger to himself or others… or at least he can do something about it._"

Jeanette looked thoughtful before picking up her Victorian doctor's bag and rummaging through it. "I'm by no means a magician or sorceress, so I can't give you specifics, but I think one thing he really needs is help reigning in emotions and thoughts."

She pulled out a few books and handed them to the faceless entity. He mused momentarily how impossible it seemed for females' purses to hold such vast amounts in them. "Those are what I could find about meditation and emotional control. It helps most people who have difficulties focusing emotions and who don't want medication. I was never fond of those pharmaceuticals myself despite Timothy's aptitude with them. Incidentally, one of those books was actually written by some monks in China for focusing an energy they called "Zen". I'm not sure, but I think it might be on the right track for you."

The entity nodded in thanks and turned to leave before she stopped him again. "And another thing. I know Harry's hanging out with BEN and Sally, which is good, don't misunderstand me. Sally is very sweet and BEN is very intelligent and will help him navigate the modern, online world, but he should branch out more.

"He needs more friends to gain a broader perspective on life and build up more connections. I, personally, recommend finding some people who can age with him. I know it's hard for him to understand now, but I'm not sure how much fun "playing house" or video games will be when Harry's in his 40s and Sally and Ben are still 8 and 10."

Slenderman nodded in understanding. Jeanette continued. "Also, he needs friends who are more permanent than just the children-from-the-playground type. I mean, those are nice and fun to be with, but they hardly last. Find some kids his age that he can meet repeatedly.

"Also… maybe it would help to find some… more like _us_." He nodded again. It made sense. She was telling him that it would be necessary or helpful to find some peculiar people like themselves. He doubted any normal human friends would last terribly long around some of the other tenants… that is, if they didn't bolt the second they found out their friend's guardian was a faceless "monster".

He thanked her for her help and the books and started leafing through the books after she left, already planning a few routines for Harry to practice.

***End Flashback***

* * *

He searched around for anyone with children around Harry's age. It was easier said than done. Most of the beings and people involved in their world were above the age of 13 and, even then, any children of "their own kind" were very well protected, rather hostile towards other children, or very reclusive.

Akako's kids came to mind first and she agreed he could come over some time that day. He also received a missive from Yekcim and figured it would be... fun for Harry at least to go there (though Slendy, personally, wasn't a fan of the location). He figured Yekcim could wait as the entity enjoys surprises and really adheres to no schedule, whereas Akako expected them that day.

Plus, he had some "errands" and equipment to pick up in the region that he could get in the meantime.

He glanced at the clock and did a few quick mental calculations. Deciding it was a good enough time, he approached the group.

"_Harry_," Slendy spoke. "_I have some errands to run and I was wondering if you wanted to tag along. One of them is in Japan and Miss Akako still offered to let you come visit_."

"The woman in the cool Chinese dress?" Harry asked.

"_I believe it's called a 'Kimono' and it's Japanese, not Chinese,_" Slenderman corrected,_ "but yes that is Miss Akako. She offered to watch over you and let you meet some of her own wards in the Japan area. I thought it might be a nice cultural experience and an opportunity to meet some new people. So, could you please get ready?_" Slendy requested.

Harry nodded in reply and started packing away the crayons and drawings. Sally waved him goodbye and continued coloring in her current drawing.

Harry walked with Slenderman out of the house and the entity "jumped" to the destination. Harry felt the familiar "woosh" of the transportation method and, looking around, saw the dense blackness around him coupled with small whispers and possible glimpses of shady figures zooming by.

When they dropped out of the In-Between, as Slendy referred to it, Harry's eyes adjusted to the area. It was a completely barren town. A few tall apartment buildings stood dilapidated and forgotten while the streets were bare save for some occasional debris falling from the crumbling structures. Harry could make out a nearby park with a swingset on a broken chain and a few spring riding toys rusting with their paint chipping. However, the entire area beyond, above, and around them was completely covered in a dense fog.

He looked up at the ancient being. "Slendy? Where are we?"

"_This is now known as the Matsuo Ghost Mine Town. It was a mining village before it was shut down. Now it's just an empty city_."

"Why are we here?"

"_To meet someone_."

Harry looked around, not seeing a soul. "Where?"

"_Don't worry, they'll be here_." Slendy reassured him.

As Harry looked around the ambiance as Slenderman led him along the empty, abandoned streets. The mist muffled their footsteps to an unsettling silence, but the buildings themselves, being devoid of life, still echoed the sounds back before being dampened completely.

"_Konichiwa._"

Harry whirled around at the unexpected voice. Behind them was a girl around 9 or 10 in a white-dress hospital gown. Her eyes were somewhat vacant… well, "eye". Her one, blue eye was looking at them while the other was obviously hollow behind the bandages wrapped around her head and the socket. Oddly enough, her _sky_ _blue_ hair fell around her shoulders and had a messy ponytail on one side of her head. Her arm was missing and a white bandage was wrapped multiple times around her chest to secure the stump.

Harry hid behind Slendy, but, like most parents, the being stood aside and let Harry be seen again while giving a "look" not to try again and to say 'hello'.

Harry meekly hung his head at his attempt and turned to the deformed girl. "H-hello."

The girl's eyes lit up. "Oh! You speak English? Yay! Teacher always said we need to learn English, but I never had opportunity to try."

"'_the' opportunity, my dear_." Slenderman corrected. She nodded, taking in the fact before bowing respectfully to the entity.

"Hello, Slenderman-sama… er- 'Meester' Slenderman." Slenderman nodded at her attempt at English and she beamed before looking back at Harry. "I apologize. I did not ask for your name."

"I-it's alright. My name's Harry. Harry Potter."

"_Ah, allow me to clear some confusion beforehand. His name is 'Potter Harry'_." Slenderman offered.

Harry made a look of confusion, but the girl was wide-eyed with understanding. "Oh! I see! Harry-san, in Japan we say our family names first." She explained. Harry nodded, absorbing the tidbit of information.

"_Miss, I am expected by Ms. Akako any moment now-_"

"Ah! Forgive me for delaying you. This way!" She led them through a few more buildings and crumbling ruins before bringing them a little ways outside the city to a small house hidden in the mists. "Take off your shoes before you enter." She called behind before removing her shoes in a small divot area by the front door.

Harry and Slender complied and were led to a large space with a bunch of kids varying between 4 to 16 were hanging out. Some were drawing, others were playing an odd game in a circle. Many wards were in robes or combat clothing and sparring or practicing motions in a training area with weapons ranging from wooden staves to aerodynamic needles to full katanas. Everyone stopped when the three came in.

"Ah, Slendy-san, I'm so happy you came." Miss Akako separated herself from a crowd of youngsters and made her way over. Their guide scurried off to go play in the ring game.

"_Hello, Ms. Akako. I'm afraid I can't stay too long. I have a few errands I'd like to run, but I wanted Harry to come and meet some new people. You know how our manor doesn't exactly have too many kids his age._"

"Yes, I understand. It must get a lonely with only Sally and BEN as age-mates. Don't worry, we will take good care of him." She smiled assuringly. Her broken neck still made her head tilt at an awkward angle, but she still managed to nod.

"_Then, I'll take my leave_." With that, Slendy waved to Harry before disappearing in a swirl of black vapor.

The faceless entity reappeared in a vacant alleyway. A bark-like shout alerted him to a startled jinmenken (man-faced dog) running in the opposite direction. He ignored it and put up his glamour. However, upon exiting the alleyway, he found people curiously dressed staring at him as he walked by. He knew he was slightly taller than the average Japanese male, but still it wasn't enough to gawk at, plus… _was that girl with a chainsaw wearing a pink maid's outfit!?_

Mentally shuddering at the impropriety of it all, he looked away from the gawking gir- … wait was that a _boy_ in the pink skirt? He was unable to suppress the shudder this time and decided to do his best to ignore the… unusual nature of some of Japan's fashion choices. Though, when he glanced in a reflective windowpane, he noted his appearance was rather… western.

He passed by a small stand selling posters and noted a character with white hair taking up the entire space. He hmmed thoughtfully. Hair colors were difficult with glamours, particularly as he didn't have hair to begin with. He ducked into a nearby alley and focused on the character. The curious suit was still black-and-white but more akin to what he wore back in the late 1800s with Victorian frock coats and white frills and a black top-hat. It was still pleasantly formal, but interesting. He also allowed his white hair to cover an eye like he saw with the character, though he opted out of the odd, blue doll perched on the character's shoulder. He allowed the one visible eye to take on the wine-red color of the character mostly due to the difficulty to re-imagine the figure on short notice.

When he walked out of the alleyway he was stunned to see himself suddenly surrounded by teen and pre-teen girls all speaking spitfire Japanese [the next few lines are in Japanese].

"_Oh my God! That is the most amazing Xerxes Break cosplay I've ever seen_!"

The entity sighed. Of course he would choose a wildly popular character completely at random. He watched as more girls ranging from tween to mid-20s gathered around him.

"_How did you do it!?"_

"_You got the hair just right!"_

"_Marry me, senpai!"_

He backed away in terror as more and more conversations started echoing the last girls'.

"_Please go out with me!"_

"_Marry me!"_

"_Have my babies!"_

"_Have Gilbert-san's babies!"_

"_AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE"_

The pale entity paled further as the high-pitched squeal confirmed his worst fears… _shippers_!

The bane of their existence!

Without missing a beat, he ran in the opposite direction with a horde of teenaged girls after him who had apparently found some poor sap in a "Gilbert-san" cosplay along the way and were holding the protesting young man above their heads.

"I HATE SHIPPING!" The entity screamed as he scampered from the mass.

* * *

Harry watched as his guardian disappeared before turning back to the woman in the kimono. "Well, Harry-san, let's show you around."

She motioned him over to a group of kids in a circle with one of them in the center. "This game is called "Kagome Kagome". One person is the 'demon' in the center and the kids making the ring have to try to make the demon flinch."

Harry paled and shuddered at the sight of what the kids were doing, but the girl in the center did not flinch in the slightest. Ms. Akako noticed the twitches and misinterpreted. "Oh, don't worry, Harry-san. People rarely manage to not flinch when we play. Do not feel bad."

Ms. Akako suddenly frowned and barked something in Japanese before getting up to deal with a few younger students trying to spar with a mace and a 2 foot long shuriken. He moved away from the ring of kids to a single boy doodling in front of a television set with static. He had a polo shirt and a bandage over his knee. The artist looked up and smiled. "Hello, I heard you talking in English. Who are you?"

"My name is Harry Potter. Er- 'Potter Harry' apparently."

"My name is Toshio. Saeki Toshio. Do you draw?" Harry nodded and accepted the crayons and paper before beginning. He glanced at Toshios' drawing. It was a picture of a bright yellow creature with brown stripes on its back and a yellow, lightning bolt shaped tail and two cherry red circles on its cheek.

"What is that?" Harry asked, pointing at the creature.

Toshio smiled. "It's called Pikachu. It's a Pokemon." He said simply.

"Pokemon? What is it?" Harry asked.

"They are fictional creatures. They were in a video game ten years ago. They also made a… cartoon? Yes, I believe they say it's called a 'cartoon', but we call it 'anime'. I thought they had it in America."

Harry shrugged. "I'm from the United Kingdom. Even then, I… didn't get to go out of the house much or watch much of the telly."

Toshio nodded and showed Harry some of his other drawings. Among them was an odd, green cocoon-like thing with a giant eye above a bump that resembled a nose. He also found an odd orange dinosaur thing with a tiny flame on its tail interesting. However, Pikachu came up multiple times in the drawings. Toshio explained how that was sort-of the go-to pokemon of the world.

They continued drawing before Toshio talked gain. "So, Harry-san, you lived in Britain. What was it like?" Harry was saved from the uncomfortable answer by a loud burst of static.

*chchhhhhththhhshhshshshshshshshs*

"Oh, yes, you haven't met _her_ yet."

Harry turned around and saw the TV static had been replaced with a picture of a well. A figure climbed out of that well and slowly crawled her way towards the screen.

Toshio huffed and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Sadako-san, you are being slow again."

The figure stood up and walked (significantly faster) to the screen before pulling herself through it like BEN and his computer screen. Harry saw she was about 12 or 14, though her long, black hair covered a lot of her face.

She raised her hand in silent greeting. Toshio supplied a narrative. "Harry-san, this is Yamamura Sadako. She's shy so she spends a lot of time in the television."

"H-hello." Harry waved back. Sadako nodded, pleased she was seen and acknowledged before going back into the television well and returning the TV to static. Harry turned back to Toshio who shrugged.

"As I said, Sadako-san is shy." He returned to his drawing and Harry picked up a crayon and began something as well. The awkward question was, thankfully, forgotten.

* * *

The entity ran around a corner and waited. The shrill screams of those girls, those… "otakus" had long since faded, but he was not going to be caught. Who knows what those… _demons_ would do to him if they caught him. He slouched in relief and glanced at a nearby book rack from a store.

Two essentially naked males were kissing passionately on the cover.

He was not homophobic. Not by a long-shot. But looking around the shop at the sheer amount of females squealing and enthusing over those very same books made him shudder in terror at the thought of what those girls would have done.

Ironic. An ageless entity that murdered territorially was scared witless from teenage girls obsessed with men having intimacy with other men.

He sighed, accepting the self-inflicted blow to his pride before carrying on down the alleyways and streets. He glanced around and teleported discretely inside a rather empty bullet train car. He took his seat, the only person who saw was a homeless man who was muttering about 'white-haired aliens' the entire ride.

After 30 minutes of nonstop travel, he glanced out the window and found he was close to his destination. It looked like another forest of trees, but he knew it was his location. He glanced around, sparing a glance at the homeless man still watching him before teleporting off of the train and into the forest.

He continued travelling by teleport until he came across a small shrine in the middle of nowhere. He saw no one was there yet, so he waited patiently and admired some of the odd stone statues of little men screaming or flailing. A few forgotten sticks of incense were extinguished in a small block. Curiously, multiple corpses of a large cicada had piled up in front of the shrine, creating a black pile of glittering exoskeletons.

"Good evening, Slenderman-sama."

The entity turned calmly to see a young girl. By instinct, he flinched to run off, but managed to calm himself by repeatedly insisting to himself that she was not a yaoi fangirl.

She wore a pink dress with an inappropriately short skirt, a ridiculously large red bow above her chest, and a matching hat on her head. Her indigo-blue eyes were vacant, but maintained a glint of madness he'd come to recognize. Otherwise, she appeared to be absolutely normal, save for some blood splatters on her front and a bloodied meat cleaver dripping from her hand.

"I trust you have my package?" The glamoured being asked. The girl nodded wordlessly and produced a small, brown package from inside a brown satchel at her side. As she was pulling it out, a decapitated head rolled out of the same pouch and fell to the ground.

Slenderman looked at it. The boy's head looked about her age. Given the look of the decapitation wound, he could confidently guess that the meat cleaver was the weapon. His glamour raised an eyebrow at the unfazed girl. "Old boyfriend?"

She smiled vacantly. "Something like that."

"Hmmm. And may I ask why the head?"

She picked up the body part in her arms and snuggled with it against her chest. "Because his head is so… _cute_. Either way, Keiichi-kun was being… difficult with Rena-san this week. Don't worry, he'll be back by next week."

Slenderman would normally question one's sanity upon hearing that given the rather permanent state the boy seemed to be in, but he had heard about this… particular town and how it seemed no one dead really stayed dead for long. He was not eager to get too involved. He had his errand. That was all.

He tucked the package away in his coat pocket and nodded his thanks. The girl bowed respectfully before adding, "Oyashiro-sama sends his regards."

The entity watched the girl skip into the woods, bloody head in hand. He glanced at the shrine one more time and noticed a small, Higurashi cicada landed on it and chirped before shuddering and curling up dead. He turned away and teleported.

Behind him, the Higurashi cried.

* * *

The next hour or so passed relatively quietly. Harry drew with Toshio, picked up some language skills from the others, and even played the ring-around-the-demon game once. He lost, but they said he made it further than anyone else who played.

Toshio showed him a comic he had. Harry was surprised to see that it read backwards instead of left-to-right and front-to-back. He couldn't make out head or tails of what the people were saying, but there was a lot of screaming and exaggerated poses.

At one point, the assistant caretaker, a woman wearing a surgical facemask named Kuchisaka, came in with a few snacks for them. She saw Harry and hmmed at his tuft of hair. She turned to Akako and asked something. Harry couldn't understand and turned to Akako.

"What did she say?"

Akako translated. "She says she wants to cut your hair. She has an obsession for cutting."

The other caretaker pulled out a pair of silver shears, but Harry shook his head at the offer. The woman shrugged and went on to take some long strips of paper and begin snipping away at it. Harry watched her as she pulled it apart, revealing several paper people in a chain with really, really wide smile cut-outs on their faces.

A knock came from the door and Miss Akako went to open it. Everyone was surprised to find a white-haired human in a black top hat and suit standing in the doorway unperturbed by the sight of decaying and undead children playing in the middle of the room.

"Harry, are you ready to go?" The boy eyed the person suspiciously. Confused, the white-haired human glanced down and "ah"ed in understanding. The air around the human rippled like a heat wave and Slenderman appeared. "_I apologize, I found I needed to change my glamour to blend in better. Harry, are you ready to leave_?"

The young boy nodded and they started saying farewell to everyone there before they vanished in their vapor of black smoke.

Slendy reappeared a few feet in front of the house and they walked in. BEN was sprawled in a winged armchair with a small gameboy consol blaring 8-bit music. E.J. was up from his lab and lounging on one of the sofas reading a book. Meanwhile, Sally was still drawing with a few crayons. The ghostly girl looked up from her most recent depiction of Jeff and beamed when she saw them walk in.

"Harry! How was the trip? Where did you go?" She asked. Harry relayed the story of Miss Akako, Toshio, Sadako, and the Kagome Kids.

He remembered something and called out to BEN. "Hey, BEN." The virus paused his game and looked up. "Can you help me set up a chat with some people in Japan?"

The virus nodded. "No problem. I have several friends over there anyway. I'll show you this afternoon."

The front door opened and slammed shut before a comical voice shouted out. "Oh, Honey, I'm Hoooome! Heeeeeheeheeheeheehee."

Jeff walked in from the Kitchen with a sandwich before mumbling around the food in his mouth. "'ey L.J. 'Ow's the 'unt?" (Hey L.J. How's the hunt?)

"Great, Jeffy, but it wasn't a hunt this time it was a job." The monochrome clown corrected. "It was a doosey this time." Jack walked in, grinning ear to ear and splattered in bright crimson being the only color in his otherwise black-and-white color palate.

"I can imagine, you were gone almost a full week." BEN said. "So, what happened?"

The lunatic giggled before crossing his legs in mid-air and hovering. "Well, it started out like this-"

* * *

The foster father was thrown backwards into a chair. Around him were a few of the childish drawings the kid had drawn over the past week or so. Each and every one of them had the image of a smiling clown with only black and white crayon. It had a pointy nose, sharp teeth, some black lines to represent claws, and black and white stripes along its unnaturally long arms.

For the past few days, the foster parent just ignored the brat's whines about "nightmares" and "imaginary friends" and just told him to shove it and go back to his room. Then, he'd usually just drown it all in beer he got from the government funds for keeping the brat in the first place.

Now, he was looking right at the "imaginary" friend, just a real as anyone else, but impossible all the same.

The clown grinned, exposing razor-sharp teeth set in black gums before shooting a razored claw right at his neck. The nails missed it, but only just. His neck was set right between two long, sharp claws pinning him to the upholstery.

The clown giggled mirthlessly before staring him down with cold, black eyes. "You know, my first kid was a lot like your son. Imaginative, fun-loving, happy even in the dreary conditions of his life. Of course, that was with his _real_ parents.

"So, I'll give you a joke that my first kid would've enjoyed."

The clown leaned in until its pointy, conical, black and white nose was almost touching his human, fleshy one. Its left hand still pinned him to the chair while its right was poised just over his stomach.

"What's black and white and red all over?"

*splatter*

"ME! AHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

* * *

"-and that's what happened." L.J. finished.

Harry was pale, but had come a long way since the first instance. At the very least, he didn't vomit again. Jeff nodded thoughtfully at his chosen method. "Cool method, though was the joke really necessary?"

The clown shrugged helplessly before replying. "It's my 'thang' you know? Plus, you can't spell 'slaughter' without 'laughter'. HAHAHAHAHA!"

The still-giggling clown made his way up the stairs to clean off the blood splatters.

Slendy watched the entire thing from his position in the archway and was glad to see Harry becoming well adjusted. He was still a bit shaken whenever someone recounted their… business or hunts, but didn't go catatonic at least. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that this was a good sign towards Harry eventually…

_Harry turned towards him. The boy's one green eye glistened malevolently while the other was just a bloody socket. His hands flickered with green electricity, threatening to destroy anything it came in contact with. His toothy grin revealed his tongue was split down the center and showed between two lengthened incisor fangs._

_Dripping from between those teeth was meat and gristle. He took a breath to speak_-

"Uh… Slendy?"

The entity was jolted from his thoughts and saw a normal, albeit pale, 7 year old staring back at him. He shook his head. "_I'm fine Harry, just… thinking._"

Harry nodded and ran back over to Sally, showing her a drawing of several creatures he discovered from the wards in Japan. Looking at the retreating figure, he decided he needed to delicately approach the possibility of Harry eventually… participating in their "jobs". Especially because of the tendency for his wards to become… less human-esque over time.

The entity left the scene and went down to the basement. He entered one of the laboratory facilities and saw E.J. and Timothy in a lab coat. They were diligently working in front of a large array of colorful glass tubes and beakers.

He emitted a sound like clearing his throat and the two turned, Jack still swirling a red concoction in a small beaker. "_Jack? Could you please come with me. I have an… experiment if you are available._"

Jack nodded and left a few instructions for the experiment for Tim to continue before following the faceless entity to one of the other laboratories at the end of the hallway. The Mansion had several laboratory facilities in the lower levels; A medical lab, a chemistry lab, a morgue/surgical theater, a physics lab, etc. They currently entered the physics laboratory.

Around them were several delicate instruments currently switched off. A Tesla Coil sat in the corner humming with charge. A large workbench of wire coils and magnets had instruments necessary to build anything short of a particle accelerator and was littered with wire cuts and electrical tape rolls.

Slenderman walked in and went to a relatively empty wooden table. Brushing aside several bits of scrap metal, he set down a few books he picked up on wave-and-energy-based physics along with his "errand" from Japan, still in its small, brown parcel.

Jack put on some fresh latex gloves and straightened his lab coat before entering. His eyeless gaze quickly found the package on the table.

"So, I take it that's your "errand"?"

"_Yes. I needed a sample of something and the Japanese division is more… lax in their secrecy as opposed to the European division._"

He carefully unwrapped the package and revealed a small, green gem that glowed slightly despite the fluorescent lights in the lab.

"_This is a 'magical' variety of jade used by Tibetan monks and stone arts practitioners along with their "wizard world's" wands. It has unusual properties and my sources have assured me it is of the same energy-based nature as this 'magic' that this society finds so fascinating. Unfortunately, none of my sources have looked deeper into this society, so they couldn't tell me much more than that._"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, that would've been a great contact. So, you want to analyze the energy it emits?"

"_Yes. If possible I hope to isolate it and find a way to suppress its effects on us._" E.J. looked at him for explanation._ "When Harry had his… incident with the kidnappers, his magic was wildly out of control and saturated the very air. Somehow, this energy interfered with my own. I could not teleport and I could barely use my mental abilities._"

E.J. raised an eyebrow. "How was your glamour?"

The entity "looked" puzzled despite his blank face. "_It… remained intact_."

"No fluctuations? Glitches? Abnormalities? Ripples?" The entity shook his head each time. "Interesting. We'll have to run some experiments regarding glamours and magic. Admittedly, glamours haven't been researched a lot. They've mostly just been… _there_, so it's been taken for granted. There may be something we can find out from it."

"_Yes, but for now, let's focus on isolating the energy first._"

E.J. took the glowing stone and placed it on a slab inside a small, glass box. He shut the lid carefully and started up a few nearby machines. Oscilloscopes showed a green wave on their display and the Geiger counter started clicking as readouts started coming out.

At first, the small jade stone just sat there, but as Jack gradually altered the dials, the glow intensified and it began shining like a floodlight. Soon, the Geiger counter sounded more like TV static than anything and the oscilloscope shorted out from impossible data. An EM shielded computer barely managed to suppress the immense field to gather rudimentary data on the radiation emission.

If Jack had eyes, they would be wizzing back and forth in their sockets, absorbing all of the information. "This is… spectacular! Look at this wavelength! I didn't even think a particle could _move_ like that let alone cause that kind of reaction with matter!"

Slenderman nodded. While he wasn't terribly well-versed in quantum physics outside of teleportation and his radiation, he could see that the graphs and readouts were unlike anything he'd ever seen. He allowed the eager, eyeless doctor to continue enthusing about the data before interrupting.

"_Jack, please focus. Do you think it is possible to develop a… sort-of callus to this? Something that gives us a buffer when we encounter it?_"

"Well, sure, but why?"

"_Well, for one, I would like BEN, Smile, and anyone else who may be affected to have a fighting chance against this energy. Additionally, I expect us to have a direct encounter with this society. Given that they quite literally enshroud themselves in this energy it could be debilitating._"

E.J.'s sockets narrowed despite being devoid of flesh. He turned off the machines which whirred down to a dull hum and the jade piece resumed its faint glow. "How soon do you expect this "encounter" to be?"

"_Within four years. When Harry turns 11._" Slenderman admitted.

Jack waited for an explanation before shouting in frustration. "Well, why?! Why do we need to expect these people at all, Slendy?! Why 11?! What the f*ck is wrong with these people that we need to… essentially raise our defenses like we're going to war?!"

The faceless entity growled. "_I. Don't. Know. To all of your questions. This society is completely backwards and has so many odd ends and corruption that it's filled with people who couldn't find their backsides with both hands _and the hands of several others!"

The tall sighed being slowly settled himself onto one of the stools by the lab bench. "_Jack, these people, these… 'wizards', are completely unpredictable. I don't know why they want Harry or what they will do with him when they find him. And, what's more, they are a complete unknown in any regards to us as a society, us as a… "family unit", or us as in the entirety of the Balance. I'm bolstering defenses because we don't even know what they have for offence._"

The doctor sat in silence as the machines beeped and whirred in the background. After a few minutes, he spoke. "I understand, sir. I'll continue running some diagnostics and get back to you, but if it means anything, a resistance method looks promising."

The entity nodded and headed back upstairs, leaving the eyeless scientist to analyze the glowing rock. He brought along a few copies of the initial readouts with him. He made a beeline straight for his usual armchair before sitting down heavily and letting his "eyes" look over the documents as the others played calmly. Finally, Harry noticed the papers in his hands. Jeanette and the past month had helped him bolster his confidence significantly to the point where he was asking pertinent questions. "Slendy, what are you reading?"

Slenderman looked at the young boy. His innocent green eyes belied a power brimming just behind them. He "smiled" and replied, "_Nothing, Harry. Just some documents E.J. gave me_."

Harry nodded and continued his doodling. Slenderman let the "grin" slip back to his neutral blankness and went back to his documents.

This power was a force to be reckoned with for the Balance. The more he'd read about the frequency on these readouts, the more it became apparent that this power could change everything. This power could alter reality in any way, shape, or form and was clearly a danger to itself and humanity as a whole. Just the power of one wizard bent on world-domination could send the entire world into a mass panic.

Looking back at the child happily drawing, he had difficulties imagining the boy being capable of on the slightest whim reducing the world to ash.

* * *

**Kudos to whoever gets the reference to whom/what sent out the other invite for Harry to meet more kids.**

**I want to say this out loud: I AM NOT HOMOPHOBIC! The "yaoi" references up there are just for comical relief. Also, one of Slendy's brothers may or may not be gay to toss in some variety. You'll see soon.**

**Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter or the creepypastas. I also don't own the "can't spell slaughter without laughter" joke, but I couldn't find the person who did.**

**I also don't own Ju On (the Grudge), The Ring, Pandora Hearts, Pokemon, Naruto (the top AN), Is This A Zombie? (the chainsaw-wielding boy in a pink dress), or the Higurashi series (Rena and Keiichi).**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

* * *

**-Akako and the Kagome Kids: "Kagome Kagome" by unknown**

**-Kuchisaka-Onna (Slit-mouth woman): Japanese urban folklore**

**-Jinmenken (man-faced dog): Japanese urban folklore**

**-Toshio: Ju-On (The Grudge): Japanese Horror Film**

**-Sadako: The Ring: Japanese Horror Film**

**-Keiichi and Rena: "Higurashi When They Cry": video game/anime/manga franchise**

**-Xerxes Break: "Pandora Hearts" by Jun Mochizuki: anime/manga series**

**-Chainsaw boy in a pink dress: "Is This a Zombie?" by Shinichi Kimura: anime/manga series**

**-"Dattebayo" AN: "Naruto" series by Masashi Kishimoto: anime/manga franchise**


	8. It's a World of Laughter

**AN:**

**In this chapter we learn just who/what the mysterious Yekcim is.**

**Also, I felt really bad about a small snippet earlier about getting Harry new clothes. It should've been a more memorable shopping montage, but it completely slipped my mind. Well, I figured a way around it! Enjoy!**

* * *

Harry woke up to the sunlight in his windows. The overcast drifted apart over the manor and Harry tiredly raised an arm to try to block the cruel beam shining on his eyes.

"_Harry! Harry! Wake up!"_

Harry mused that one of the downsides to having a guardian that can telepathically shout at you was that you couldn't put a pillow over your ears like he'd seen Dudley do on mornings. It just went straight to your head. He chuckled tiredly and got up for the day.

He walked down to the dining room and smiled at the sight he'd finally started getting used to.

Eyeless Jack (or E.J. as he'd started calling him) was reading _Gray's Anatomy_ with a cookbook right next to it. Harry could see a little dribble of black saliva as he thought about what spices would work well with what cut of meat or what organ.

Laughing Jack (aka L.J.) had diagrams laying around his area for some new diabolical prank. Harry was impressed at the complexity of a good prank by L.J.'s standards. He even had a few diagrams and schematics that were heavily physics and math-based. Just glancing at it, he could tell everything mattered: the molar concentration of the cyanide, the mass of the pie, the trajectory of the arc, the compression factor of the spring.

On his face was a set of Groucho Marx style glasses complete with a fleshy pink nose that L.J.'s own conical nose compressed into. Evidently they were his "serious" glasses for problem solving that he pulled out of his pocket dimension.

Over the few months, the interdimensional clown revealed he had a small pocket dimension "hammer space" he could pull things out from including his glasses, pranks, inventions, weaponry, balloons, candy, and (as the name suggested) a large, wooden mallet or frying pan.

As an interdimensional being, he understood physics better than most on this plane of existence. Derivatives, wavefunctions, electron tunneling, gravity constants; it all came naturally to him. Especially considering he lived in an "imaginary world"… _literally_! He once informed Harry that before he began officially "existing" on this plane, his dimension was one where the square root of -1 existed as an observable value. He commented that this dimension was much "flatter" relative to his 5th-Dimensional origins.

Who knew?

BEN was engrossed in a game. He was blasting aliens, pokemon, demons, or whatever with one hand while shoveling some cereal in his face with the other. BEN turned out to be a computer genius, particularly when he was literally "one with the Code", as he put it. He also hosted "game night" with Jeff, Toby, Tim, Brian, and anyone else available where they spent all night chugging sodas and competing in Call of Duty, Fallout, Bioshock, or some other game that involved lots of explosions and blood.

Sally was content with brushing the hair of one of her dolls in between bites of her waffle. Sammy the Bear was sitting by her side, quiet and immobile in front of a plastic bowl of fake porridge.

Jeff was still asleep along with Smile. Harry generally found out that for Jeff to wake up before 10 AM was a miracle in itself.

Slenderman was reading a newspaper, one of his tentacles held a strawberry poptart with a bite taken out of it. For a moment, Harry's sleep-addled brain thought he saw a gray cat's tail pop out from the back of the pastry, but he blinked and it was gone.

Harry sat down and started enjoying one of the waffles in the center, but as he reached to try to grasp it, a tiny *rip* made itself known at the seam around his shoulder and he pulled his arm back in embarrassment. Looking around, he saw everyone glancing up at him. He sheepishly muttered, "Sorry."

E.J. smiled to alleviate his embarrassment. "No problem, Harry. I was expecting as much. Did you learn in school about how you need milk, veggies, etc. to grow?" Harry nodded. "Well at the Dursley's they kept those from you. Now that your body has them, it's started growing like it should. You just outgrew these clothes."

Slenderman nodded. "_Yes, that's why I took you to the mall center nearby a few weeks ago. I figured you'd outgrow those rather quickly. How about this morning we can go visit another? I know one where we can find good quality for better prices. Especially for… us_." He gestured around to the more unusual people around the table.

Harry nodded happily. The other time Slendy took him to the mall, the entity allowed Hoodie to walk Harry around and show him some things. The seven year old was amazed at the American proportion sizes for the food court, but given the size of his normal food portions, almost anything could top it. Looking back, he realized Slendy must have used his glamour to do the clothes shopping for him while Brian got him some food.

He remembered how happy he was when he got home and found that all of the clothes fit him perfectly. They weren't uncomfortable or scratchy like the frayed sweaters or old, dirty rags Petunia tossed his way. They weren't baggy or hung limply across his frame. They fit just right for the first time in his life.

Slendy addressed the table. "_That goes with everyone. Does anyone else need to go shopping?_"

L.J. shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. I've still got to find the right mass-to-force ratio for this pratfall." He turned back to his diagram, punching a few numbers in a calculator. Harry still had to get over a crazy clown being even the slightest bit serious, but L.J. quoted that 'comedy is a serious business' and inventing a quality prank took preparation work as well as ingenuity.

BEN also declined. "Sorry, I promised Sonic .exe I'd work on some code with him this morning."

Slendy nodded, "_Alright, so everyone else is going?_"

"Goin' wherr Slendy?" A tired voice slurred. Everyone turned to see a bleary-eyed Jeff trudge in with his facemask still on his forehead.

"_Ahh, Jeff. So wonderful for you to grace us with your presence at this ungodly hour of 9 in the morning._" Slendy said sarcastically. Jeff scowled as he pulled out a small bottle from his pajama sweatpants and began applying his eyedrops in his seat.

"Whatever Slendy. So what're you doin'?" He mumbled, swiveling his eyes around to spread the drops.

"We're going to the shopping center-" Slendy began.

"Cool, I'll go too. I wanted to pick up some things." Jeff said. He stretched in his seat, grabbed a waffle and headed back upstairs with it still in his mouth. Slenderman was still poised to continue talking before drooping in exasperation with a sigh.

"_Alright, I guess you should get ready._"

They finished up the breakfast and started getting moving. Harry was dressed in a flash and back down the stairs before most even started their way up them. They waited as Jeff, E.J., Tobi, and Sally all made their way to the group. Tobi replaced his usual, "grinning" facemask with a white, paper surgical one like Miss Kuchisaka from Miss Akako's while E.J. had an odd red-and-white stick.

Slendy had them hold hands as they shadow-walked away from the house. Harry felt the usual exciting movement before they were dropped off in the middle of a forest clearing. Harry was very confused. He hadn't been to many malls, but he was relatively sure this wasn't one. Slendy led them through the clearing and Harry's question was answered as they came to a large sea of black pavement indicating a car parking lot.

"We're here." Slendy said. "Everyone, please activate your glamours. Except you, of course, Harry."

Harry watched as each of his friends activated their own glamour. He hadn't seen any besides Slendy's, which was back to the 'Western' theme after he dropped the Japanese glamour.

Sally didn't look much different, except the criss-crossed blood was gone without a trace and the dent was nowhere to be seen. Her dirty pink and bloodstained nightgown was replaced with a brighter pink and clean dress. Her normally-bare feet had some long, white socks that went up behind her skirt and a pair of shiny black shoes.

Eyeless Jack's skin went from his odd bluish-black to a normal, Caucasian, "fleshy" color and his hair kept its usual brownish color, but it looked much more natural with the common skin tone. He still had his blue jeans and black hoodie, but his mask was still in place, though the mysterious, tar-like substance was gone.

When he removed the plain, blue mask Harry was surprised to see that his normally empty eye sockets had two, dull, fogged-over blue eyes moving around in them. E.J. extended the red-and-white cane and hooked a hoop at the end to his wrist. His dull eyes glanced at Harry and he smiled reassuringly.

Jeff was the most drastic change. His long, black hair changed color to a mousy brown and shortened where it was above the shoulders, but still slightly shaggy. His skin was no longer pasty and white, but was normal flesh-colored, if a little pale like Harry's. His grin was also gone and it was surreal to see Jeffery Woods with a neutral facial expression instead of his constant carved smile.

Harry was surprised by his eyes the most. They went from their usual beady gray to a deep blue. Harry was also stunned to realize he had eyelids too. He stared at them for a long time and was amazed when they _actually closed_. Jeff noticed him gawping and rolled his new eyes at him.

"It's not real, kid. It's an illusion. It doesn't even affect my sight. To you, you see me blink. To me, I'm still staring at everything like normal. It's just to make it look normal to other people. Although," He grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. "I still entered, like, several bets on staring contests with Normies, that's what we call regular people. No one can top a champ who hasn't blinked in years. Easiest money I ever made."

Harry laughed, but glanced down at his shortened hair, which Jeff also noticed. "That's actually real. It takes more effort, but I can actually make my hair _physically_ shorter to the length it was before my, er, accident. Only my hair, though, and so far I'm the only human who can manage something like it."

"Only human?" Harry asked.

Jeff nodded, "Yeah, I mean, L.J.'s kinda human, but his glamour keeps his nose and teeth normal or else he'd be poking everyone with an invisible cone on his face. Slendy's glamour lets him adjust his height and make a somewhat physical face and hair. Otherwise, he'd be a bald, 8-foot creep with a painted-on face."

Slendy growled quietly and subconsciously brushed some glamoured, white hair behind a glamoured ear structure.

Harry gave up trying to wrap his head around that logic of physical illusions and, as Jack suggested, chalked it up to… "magic". He glanced at Toby and frowned. "Hey, Toby, what's your glamour?"

The bipolar pyromaniac looked the exact same. Same tan-and-brown striped sweater with gray hoodie underneath. He left his axes, axe guards, gloves, and goggles at home as well, but his paper face mask was still in place.

Toby shrugged. "I still look pretty human, so I don't really need one, but," He pulled down his mask and showed a clean cheek. No gash. "I make the slash go away in case the mask comes off or someone sees underneath. Even then, it's not as uncommon anymore to wear a facemask if you're sick. All I gotta do is pretend to cough every now and then and make sure no one sticks their fingers near my cheek. Otherwise, it's gonnna go right through. Like Jeff said, I can't manage a 'corporeal glamour'."

His eyes suddenly lit up like the Christmas lights workers began putting up in the parking lot. "L-let's go to those q-quarter rides! I want to be the b-b-bumblebee!" He sang, ticking with excitement, and skipping along. Slendy sighed and motioned for them to follow.

E.J. reached into his coat to pull out some sunglasses and put them over his "eyes". He then put out the red and white stick and leaned his elbow out for Sally to take. She looked like she was leading him along while he tapped away against the ground in front of him methodically with his cane.

Harry looked at Jack curiously. "Jack, why are you doing that?"

Jack smiled. "Well, Harry, I'm 'blind'. It's actually because my glamour can't make good eye structures. I can still see fine, but if people look too closely, they notice some things are off. It's easier for me to make the eyes purposely look off and pretend I'm blind. So, Sally's 'helping me get around' while I'm in the parking lot and I'm tapping my cane against the ground to avoid bumping into things and marking the next footfall. It's what actual blind people do."

Harry nodded in understanding. They made their way through the parking lot with Jack's rhythmic tapping and they found several parents awkwardly holding their children behind them while not-so-inconspicuously eyeing the mysterious teenager who was currently riding a toddler's quarter-slot ride going back and forth. Harry "ah"ed in understanding when he saw that the ride was in the shape of a giant bumblebee.

"WHEEEEEEEEEE!" Toby cried out from the kiddie ride.

"Toby! We're going in!" Slendy called out. Toby hopped out of the ride and rushed over to join the group as the sliding doors opened to let them in.

Harry was impressed. The first mall was really small compared to this one. He craned his neck to look up at a glass roof letting in sunlight. The place was a huge atrium of shops, stores, kiosks, and had real, indoor trees placed methodically and trimmed to perfection. It would've been uncomfortably like Aunt Pe- Mrs. Petunia Dursley's house, but shoppers milled about the walkways and the displays were haphazard compared to neat-in-a-row that Mrs. Dursley preferred.

Doctor Halloway suggested a mental exercise where he purposely dissociated from the Dursleys, referring to them as though they were strangers rather than relatives to help him put them in the past and detach from them and their poisonous influence completely.

They passed a couple of stores until they made it to a retail store at the back. Harry saw there were signs for everything: Belts, Shirts, Wallets. He wondered why people would need such a huge selection of things for something as boring as a belt or wallet, but Slenderman ushered them further into the store. Harry looked around at the white, featureless mannequins holding poses while displaying the shirts, pants, dresses, etc. that were available.

Slendy brought them up to a spot that sold shirts for men. He pretended to be looking over a selection while he was checking around discretely for people. Harry glanced around and noticed Slendy discretely glancing at a mannequin in the center of the display with brown pants and a tan sweater.

"Hey, Slendy, doesn't that sweater look cool?" Harry asked, gesturing to the mannequin.

_Why, thank you!_

Harry jumped back in surprise as the "mannequin" turned its head before hopping down from the pedestal and crawling out of the rows of shirts. He pulled out a pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on his nose indentation in front of the blank spot where his eyes would have been.

"_Slenn, how are you?_" The entity said.

"Trendy, please! You are in _public_. You _need your glamour_." Slenderman insisted, frantically glancing around at oblivious shoppers. The other entity gave a mental scoff before his appearance changed. Instead of a store-mannequin-like blankness that Slenderman's family seemed prone to, he was a guy in his mid-to-late 20s with sandy blond hair and with hazel eyes behind his glasses instead of Slendy's black irises.

Slenderman sighed. "You still waste precious energy adding unnecessary color to your glamour, don't you?"

"Presentation is everything, Slenn." He smiled cheekily.

The entity in a suit pinched the bridge of his nose, though he didn't biologically have sinuses, so it didn't really help. "Harry, this is my brother, Trenderman. Also known as Trendy."

Trendy smiled and waved to the kid currently peeking out from behind Jeff's leg, much to the disguised serial killer's annoyance. "Let go of my leg, kid." He growled.

Harry complied and gave a small "Hello" to the fashion-conscious entity. Trendy nodded a greeting back and turned to Slenderman. "So, Slenn, what do you want? You hardly ever come to visit and you know Offendy rarely comes out of the city and Splendy… well, you can only take so much of him, you know?"

Slendy sighed in agreement before continuing. "Trendy, I know how much you know fashion and, well, we've been meaning to get Harry some new clothes-"

"Say no more. I've got you covered." Trendy interrupted. He walked the group over to the kids' section and started picking out some of the more colorful t-shirts when Slendy tapped his arm.

"Trendy, we're going for _discrete_, remember?"

Trendy pouted. "Oh, Slenn, you and that stupid privacy of yours. All those dreary, black suits and such, at least Sally has some good taste." He gestured to the girl who beamed and twirled in place to show off the bright, pink dress.

Slendy sighed. "Yes, well, females are expected to be a bit… flashy. Boys are not."

"Slenn, you have to get your mind unstuck from the 19th century! Kids these days, and men, are all wearing bright colors. It's a "norm", not that you'd know. I bet you still have that virus kid, BEN, do the texting because _someone_ doesn't know how to operate a cell phone."

"My sigma radiation causes it to fritz! What do you expect?!" Slendy defended himself. Trendy waved it off.

"Whatever. I'd argue that _my_ phone doesn't fritz and _I_ have the exact same radiation as you, and a good 2 thousand followers on Twitter and my blog, but it'd fall on deaf ears… _old_ deaf ears." He enunciated.

"We are practically the same age, Trendy." Slenderman growled.

Trendy huffed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah, Mr. I'm-only-a-whole-millenia-older-than-you. How about we do half-and-half? I'll pick out some _dreary_ colors so you can be happy and then some _actual_ clothes for him to go out in." Trendy offered. Slenderman huffed but conceded. "Great! Okay Harry, try this, then that and we'll see about these."

Trendy discretely teleported around the department store picking out bits of clothes and accessories off the rack before popping back to the group. Harry found himself soon literally buried underneath a large pile of shirts and jeans. Jeff and Toby snickered at his predicament while Sally was trying to help him dig his way out of the heavy pile.

Jeff grabbed Slendy's attention. "Hey, _Slenn_," Slendy grimaced, "I'll be right back, I'm going to that punk store a few doors over to get another hoodie and maybe something for Smile."

Slendy nodded in acknowledgement. "We'll meet back in the food court around 11:30." Jeff nodded and headed off. Jack and Sally also left, claiming to need to do a bit of shopping as well. Toby's quiet streak was broken as he suddenly rushed off, excitedly yammering about a carousel ride by the food court.

Meanwhile, Harry was buried under a pile of clothes from his neck-down and shrunk back into the enclosure as Slendy and Trendy started arguing about which he should try on first.

* * *

What felt like an hour and a thousand outfits later, Harry now had several pairs of jeans both in his size and a size or two above for when he grows again, multiple shirts both long and short-sleeved, a formal dress suit (Black, because Slendy insisted, though Trendy managed to argue for a dark green tie to match his eyes), several shorts, and lots of miscellaneous.

Though, Harry was glad to have something that he felt was mandatory by the young males of the house. A hoodie.

Jeff had a white hoodie. Jack had a black hoodie. Toby had his gray-black hoodie under his sweater. Hoodie had a yellow hoodie. Even a few glamours for normally non-hoodie tennants had hoodies.

Harry's was a dark gray that zipped up all the way and divided two pockets at the stomach area. It was meant for older kids, so it was really baggy on his frame. He wore it as they walked out, but let the lady at the register scan it while it was on him. She teased him about trying to run off with it and he panicked ("cutely" as she later put it) before he realized she was joking.

They left Trendy to drop the glamour and continue modeling next season's comfort wear in the display area. Slendy paid using a sleek, black credit card with a red circle with an X symbol. He explained that it was linked to the Council for purchases in the human society. Harry briefly wondered exactly _where_ the money came from, but Slendy explained it was a complex system and left it at that.

They walked out of the shop and Slenderman turned to him. "Harry, since we got out significantly earlier than anticipated, I thought maybe you'd like to use this time to gather some gifts for the holidays."

Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You celebrate Christmas?"

The glamoured entity shrugged. "Yes and no. We're not Christian, naturally. It's mostly just a party, but a few of the previously-human tenants enjoy the holiday, especially Sally, so it's just become a regular thing."

Harry nodded and then paled when he realized something. "Um… Slendy? I've… never actually gotten anyone presents before… or really received them, either… h-how do I… um."

Slendy put a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "I understand, Harry. I'll help."

The seven-year-old beamed and started looking around for a few shops with his new family in mind.

* * *

At 11:30, the band of disguised beings and killers met at the food court. Each one had lots of bags in their hands. Jack was holding onto Sally's bags as well while she pretended to lead him along without his cane, which was compressed and dangling off his wrist. Some people "aww"ed at the scene, while others just looked away to avoid staring. Harry had to admit, it was a pretty good throw-off.

Toby had a large bag at his side as well, along with a cone with pink cotton candy at the other end. His minimal glamour held up as he took bites from it with his mask down.

Even Jeff came over with a few black bags with punk and goth designs on the outside, but also a few other retailers that wouldn't sell anything remotely appealing to the psychopath.

Jack glanced at them and smirked, but kept up the 'blind' act. He tilted his head pretending to listen for something. "Jeff, that sounds like a lot more crinkling than just the hoodie and dog toy you said you'd get. What'd else you get?"

Jeff's face flickered in annoyance before becoming a devious smirk reminiscent to his permanent grin. "Well, I got a few hoodies for myself and a few dog toys for Smile when I thought, 'Hey, I'm right next to this other place', so I picked up some "magazines"… if you know what I mean."

He grinned until Slendy smacked the back of his head admonishingly. Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Magazines? Like the money ones and garden ones the Dursleys got?"

Slendy was slightly flustered as Jeff looked away sullenly while rubbing his head. "Well, you see, Harry, it's nothing you need to concern yourself. They're for… adults. Kindly don't look in his bags. Whether there are those… _unnecessary purchases_ or not, I'd rather not let you find out." He shot a look at Jeff, who shrugged it off and continued looking around in a seemingly random direction away from Slendy's glare.

"Aww, Jeff going soft on us?" Toby mocked, gleefully.

Jeff glared at him and his mousy brown hair suddenly darkened to his unglamoured midnight black, but it didn't grow past his shoulders. Slendy cleared his throat meaningfully and Jeff saw a strand of his hair before he rolled his shoulders and his glamoured hair returned to its usual brown. Harry's eyebrows went up in surprise, "Jeff? What was that?"

Jeff huffed, "I got angry and my control slipped. It's hard keeping that corporeal glamour going. First thing that goes is usually just color." He explained, glancing around and confirming no gawkers noticed the brief hair change. Harry nodded and returned over to Slendy to pick up the gifts he bought everyone.

Slendy glanced at the large clock in the food court, "Well, let's go and get these back home. I have a… surprise, I suppose, afterwards."

Sally and Toby -started jumping up and down. "What is it!? What is it!?" They asked excitedly simultaneously.

Slendy "smiled", "Well, it's not a surprise for nothing." He just turned around, carrying some bags and left the actual kid and childish teen to their imagination.

"I bet it's candy!" Sally exclaimed.

"I hope it's gasoline!"

"Or taffy!"

"Or a squirt gun with acid!"

"Or a doll!"

"Or an exploding penguin!"

"Or a head!" Jeff chimed in. They turned to him and he shrugged. "What, can't I be excited too?"

Toby shook his head at the psychopath. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Why would Slendy give us a head?"

Jeff scowled. "Well, maybe to make sure you have a brain with you. I mean, seriously, where would you get an exploding penguin?!"

"The South Pole, duh! Everyone knows penguins live down there." Toby rolled his eyes as though it were an obvious statement. Jeff was in a confused silence, before shaking his head and returning to his usual, sulky self.

Slendy's head popped back in. "Let's go."

They gathered their bags and left the mall before Slendy teleported them away.

* * *

They got back to the house and dropped off the bags in their respective rooms. Slendy waited a few minutes at the door until they regrouped. Sally came in with BEN trailing behind, apparently finished with his code project and just playing a DS game upstairs.

Slendy addressed the group. "Now, I thought you may enjoy something. Doctor Halloway has suggested that Harry meet more children his age and I've been looking around for people for him to meet. Now, I got a message from Yekcim-"

"EEEEEEEE!" Sally squealed. Toby was also hopping up and down like a rabbit on coffee.

"W-wait! Wait! L-let me g-get something!" He stuttered and ticked spastically in his excitement before running upstairs. Jeff scoffed and folded his arms. Harry just looked confused.

"Who's Yekcim?"

"Well, he's… something. He's not human, but he can teleport around certain locations in the world. I can't recall who he's supposed to resemble, but-"

Jeff cut in. "Look, kid, I guarantee you're gonna love it."

Harry nodded, still unsure. "Okay. Where are we going."

Before anyone could answer, Toby's footsteps came bounding back to the stairwell. Harry turned and saw the teen rush down the stairs. On his head was a weird hat that resembled a black cap with a logo on it, but with two black ear-like circles on top. Even behind his paper mask, they could see he was grinning madly.

"W-we're going to D-D-Disneyland!"

* * *

A few minutes later, a group of seven appeared in a swirl of black mist in a secluded area in an "alleyway" behind one of the themed restaurants. No one around noticed, they were too busy enjoying the comfortable warmth of Florida despite the month of the year and running around to get to the next attraction.

Six of the seven were already glamoured. After a quick scolding from Slendy, BEN went into Ben mode as well.

BEN still had green, but it was a dark green zip-up hoodie with a light green shirt underneath. Harry could see a gold pattern of three triangles printed on the green shirt exposed between the zipper of the hoodie. Below that, he also had dark-blue-practically-black jeans and black and white trainer shoes. His glamour also featured a dark green knit-cap as well that further messed up his blonde hair.

The glamoured Slendy motioned for everyone to stick around. "Are we all ready? I'll summon a messenger."

Slendy sent out a low mental whistle with seven notes. Sally whispered, "_It's a small. World. After. All_" in time with the seven whistles. Harry was about to wonder what was wrong when he saw everyone shift to something behind him.

He turned-

-And was face-to-face with black, glass eyes.

"Augh!" He jumped back and almost tripped on the curb. He steadied himself and looked back.

The black eyes were actually glass goggles embedded in a large, leather mask with an odd circle at the bottom resembling an elephant's trunk that was cut off near the base. Harry vaguely remembered a few tidbits about those weird masks from his history class. If his memory served, they were for toxic gases a long time ago.

The boy with that mask had blonde hair sticking out behind it and what looked like a worn, dark blue suit jacket and shorts with a few shirts underneath.

Next to him was another, taller boy in similar clothing, but his mask was much different. It still had black, glass goggles embedded in his mask, but the mask itself was plastic molded in the shape of a cartoony, smiling mouse with an odd cylinder attachment underneath. Harry could hear labored breathing echoing from inside both masks.

Harry looked around at the people rushing by, surprised no one noticed the pair of oddly-dressed boys in the middle of the theme park. He supposed that either they couldn't see them or didn't notice with the rush of the theme park.

The two masked kids started walking away and Slendy motioned for the group to follow. The group was inconspicuous from others as families and large gatherings moved around the park's sprawling streets. They passed a few odd characters in suits resembling a cartoonish duck, two large chipmunks, a female mouse in a red and white polka dot dress and bow, and something that Harry had no clue what it was, but it had two buck teeth, a bright orange shirt with a black vest, and an odd, green hat.

Harry saw they had appeared in an area that was comprised of multiple buildings that resembled fairytale cottages, shops, taverns, and such right next to rides and attractions with themes like flying elephants and spinning teacups. The young wizard saw more theme park people, but they weren't in suits this time, they looked like normal women in fancy dresses, Sally was whispering excitedly to Slendy to get a picture with someone named "Belle", but Slendy told them they'd come back in a bit, to her disappointment.

The group passed a colorful castle-like building and Harry could make out a tune that matched the mental whistle that got those two kids there. Jeff eyed the place and gave a shudder, whispering "The Horror." to himself. Harry was absolutely confused.

As they moved onwards, he realized they were getting closer and closer to a large castle in the center of everything. Harry was awestruck at it. He'd read about castles before, but never actually gotten to see one. Even then, the Dursley family wouldn't have taken him if he tried.

The two children led them to an inconspicuous door tucked away. It looked just like a normal, wooden door you'd expect inside a castle, but it was pink and blue to match the color scheme around it and it had an "Employees Only" sign tacked onto it. The two opened the door, paying the sign no attention and the rest followed suit.

Harry was surprised that the ornate, decorated door led to a very utilitarian stairwell. It was lit by a dull, white fluorescent light and the walls were a drab off-white with grime and some rust. They went down the stairs and Harry was amazed to find that they were in some kind of tunnel system.

The tunnels were also a bit dirty, but well organized. Men and women were walking past with mops, brooms, and tools while talking rapidly in a language Harry didn't understand. There were also more of those costumed people, but one of them in a large mouse costume with a formal suit had removed his head, revealing a sweaty man gratefully taking sips from a watercooler. Another area had a few chairs, sofas, etc. and there were teenage girls or young women in the brightly colored dresses or helping each other get in their own costume while some applied make-up in front of some large mirrors. A metal rack of fancy, expensive costumes rattled by while a large crate of the random stuff he saw in the gift shops went the other way.

No one paid much attention to them, so they went unhindered through the maze. They passed more costumed people and utility workers. They even saw a couple guys in red with "First Aid" in white letters rush by. As they continued, they got further and further away from the activity and into the more dilapidated and forgotten areas of the maze. Exposed pipes were rusting and the red-brown stains leaked where the metal met the wall. Probably-once-white paint was peeling away in flakes or had rotted away in sheets, exposing cement cinderblocks behind them.

The two masked kids eventually led them to a single, iron door at the end of the hallway. Harry couldn't make out much because the lights flickered so much, but he thought he saw flaky, black letters saying "Room Zero". They pulled at the metal latches which screeched open against rust.

The doors opened and Harry shuddered at a sudden burst of very cold air. The kids led the others into the area and Harry lingered around the doorway. The room was pretty poorly lit, to the point that it looked completely dark. He felt goosebumps on his arm from the chill still seeping out of the room.

He continued peering in from the entryway, before he was startled to see a girl in a black dress with a white, lace collar appear in front of him. She had albino, white hair peeking out behind her own cartoony mouse gas mask.

"_Shut the door. You're letting out the cold_." She rasped. Before he could protest, she grabbed his arm and led him into the room. He heard the door shut behind him and the room was in complete darkness. He heard shuffling and stumbling around him before Jeff shouted at the other end of the room, "Found it!"

There was a bright shower of sparks from that area and Harry was blinded as white fluorescent lights suddenly flared to life. As he blinked away the brightness, his adjusted eyes took in the room. The walls were almost all cement along with most of the floor. There was a television set against the wall with a large collection of DVD cases. A lot of colorful posters featuring various characters and animals adorned the walls and a gray cat was prowling around for mice which had just scattered with the sudden lights, much to the cat's ire.

The room had about 20 kids in those odd masks hanging around, drawing in coloring books or playing with figures. Another 10 didn't have masks and were blue-lipped, pale, or covered in an almost permanent frost despite the relatively warmer room (even if it was cold). They seemed unperturbed by the sudden light. One boy walked by Harry mumbling about the "comfortable cold" and "rotten Florida weather".

He shuddered in the cold and suddenly wished he'd brought along his new hoodie. Everyone else was either inhuman or had a warmer wardrobe than he did. He huddled in on himself to retain what heat he had.

He remembered his training with Slendy and how he had read the books about people conjuring flames in their hands. He hadn't managed that yet, but he did make it so his hands got a lot warmer. He focused on his chest region and felt the energy in the center sluggishly start moving. Then, like clay or dough, it became easier and easier to mold and shape until it was flowing around his body like a second circulatory system of melted wax or molten silver.

It didn't go everywhere like his blood, but it went around enough that it warmed him against the chill.

A shadow passed over him and he whirled around to come face-to-face with a grinning 6 foot man in a black suit and top hat with a glossy finish to his skin. "He-he-hello there, little boy! My name's Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chucky! What's yours?"

The man's stutter was unnatural. It cut off and restarted spontaneously and didn't match the lip movements as they suddenly reformed to repeat the former phonetic.

"M-my name is Harry. A pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand, unsure, and the entity grasped it firmly. The man's skin felt cold and had a rubbery texture and there were unnaturally hard bones underneath. The man let go and stiffly walked off to stare at the cat stalking a cockroach.

Another figure approached, this time a young girl in a green German dress with blonde hair and the same glossy finish to her skin. "H-he-hello. My n-name is Helga. Guten Tag!"

"H-hello. My name is Harry." He introduced again. This repeated two more times for two similar figures, one was a tan-skinned boy wearing a poncho and another with a woman with pale skin, dark hair, and a french beret. All of them had stiff movements, unnatural stutters, and seemed to be interested by the new face, but Harry still felt wary of them even as they wandered off to stare at cracks in the wall leaking water or a gas mask wearing kid absentmindedly doing something, but completely ignoring the eerie people's presence.

Harry slowly wandered away from the eerie people and saw some more of the facility. There were several large vents streaming in chilly air. An archway led to separate rooms for each ward. There was an area reserved for general weaponry training, but the facility seemed to be primarily for child-like entities to be watched over, like a permanent daycare, not like the Mansion or Akako's School which purposely trained killers and creatures.

Slendy was in another room, marked by another iron door. He walked out and was followed by another person in a suit, but unlike the mouse costumes he'd been seeing around the park, this one was like a film negative. It's body was white with a black face and a blue bow. The figure raised an arm in greeting. "**_Hey, wanna see my head come off?_**"

The figure started lifting against his head with the sound of ripping seams and Harry stared as yellow ooze started leaking from the neck. Thankfully, Slendy put a stop to it. "_Yekcim, please stop._" The figure complied and the head went back on fully. The yellow pus-like stuff was absorbed back into the suit itself.

Slendy turned to Harry. "_Harry, this is Yekcim. He's in charge of the Gascots and similar children who prefer cold temperatures._"

"Who are the gascots?" Harry asked, still casting uncertain glances at the living costume.

"_The gascots are the children with the plastic gasmasks. They were the original children that required this facility. Yekcim came over after an incident with the Treasure Island Park closing down. He still visits from time to time as I understand, but he mostly stays around the main, active parks._" The giant mouse nodded to confirm Slendy's explanation. "_This facility is meant primarily for the gascots, but also houses several other wards who prefer colder temperatures._"

"Who was the man, then? And the girl and boy?"

"_'Man', Harry?"_

"**_I can answer that, Mr. Slenderman._**" Yekcim spoke. "**_Treasure Island was equipped almost immediately with a "Small World" ride, but at the time the Disney Corporation had found some old blueprints by Uncle Walt, himself. He designed them just before he died and hid them away before he could start building them. He practically invented the field of animatronics and made a breakthrough. The animatronics walked and talked, but they also had autonomous movement. That is, they could think and act for themselves, but tended to be somewhat… aggressive towards civilians and employees. We moved them here as protection sentinels. Oh, don't worry_**," He amended, seeing Harry's eyes widen in panic. "**_They're harmless now-a-days unless we tell them to attack… Just don't provoke them_**."

"_It's their version of Protections, Harry. The Mansion has several ward structures protecting it, essentially encasing it in its own small dimension. Akako's School has protections in the mists that we saw. Here, these… 'animatronics' are the park's own defenses since they can't put up large-scale shields in a public amusement park._"

"**_Well, we also share them around, too_**." Yekcim admitted. "**_Last I remember, we sold a few animatronics to this pizza chain for their floor shows. Didn't manage to reprogram them, though, so that'll be fun for the night guards. Hehe_**." He chuckled darkly.

Harry had a sudden feeling in his gut and silently hoped the nice pizza delivery guy was alright.

* * *

**=A few nights ago=**

"Aaaauuuuggghhh! Augh! Augh! AAAAAUUUUGHHH!"

Dave the former-pizza-delivery kid wailed, his arms flailing behind him as he bolted out the front doors of the small pizzeria. At long, long last his six days were up.

He almost barreled down the manager, just opening the doors at 6:01 AM, and ripped a small, pink check for $120.50 out of the stunned little man's hand.

Dave hazarded a glance back and nearly wet himself as he caught a glimpse of Foxy waving his shiny, metal hook from behind the curtain.

As he ran from his most recent job (which would receive a resignation form from him shortly after), he clutched a job offer pamphlet in his other hand.

He hoped Umbrella Corporation was still hiring lab assistants.

* * *

Slenderman returned to conversing with Yekcim and Harry took the time to walk around. All of the videos and posters featured cartoonish characters and a large, swirly signature that looked like either a swirly, fancy "D" or an oddly shaped "G". The rest was pretty much "isney" except that the "i" had an odd swirl above it. The young wizard remembered Toby's comment and concluded it must be that "Disney" he mentioned.

The gascots and similarly masked kids were all lying around playing cards, talking, playing what looked like hide-and-seek, or petting the gray cat that prowled around. Harry went to the cat first. The same albino-haired girl that dragged him in was the only one by the cat's side at that moment. He watched the cat's head loll around as she rubbed it's stomach.

Harry tentatively reached out a hand and mimicked her actions. The cat purred from the attention. Harry's hand brushed against the girl's and he jerked back at the coldness of it. She ignored his gesture, but the cat eyed him, clearly questioning why he stopped. Harry went back to petting the cat, careful to not touch the girl again. "He's from the Magic Kingdom."

He was startled by the girl's sudden voice, it echoed inside the mask, but was still very understandable. The gascot continued. "He's one of a bunch of cats that go around the park after hours to eat the mice and rats. They're very hard working."

Harry nodded and continued to pet the cat. "W-what's your name?" He ventured.

Her hand stopped for a second before resuming after the cat "mew"ed for attention. "I… can't really remember. I just go by Kida. She had white hair, too."

The cat "meow"ed again and Harry realized that he, once again, had stopped giving the cat a belly rub. He started up and mumbled, "Spoiled cat." He was surprised when a distorted giggle sounded from behind Kida's mask.

The other kids ran over to a telly set in the corner of the room and a few were whispering feverishly over a few colorful boxes. Eventually deciding on one, they took out a black VHS tape and popped it in the player underneath.

The children crowded around and sat in front of the box as a few ancient commercials and previews played before the standard anti-piracy warning flashed and the movie began. The opening scene portrayed an old English kingdom where a king died and a magical sword appeared in an anvil in the courtyard of a church proclaiming that whomever removes the sword shall be king.

Kida nudged Harry and asked if monarchs still did that in Britain. He whispered back that he doubted that strange people distributing swords is no basis for a system of government.

Eventually they got to the scenes where the boy protagonist, "Wart", fell through a thatch roof and met with an old wizard named Merlin.

The movie went on after that, detailing impressive feats of magic from Merlin to get "Wart" to learn lessons for his future.

Harry enjoyed the film, but was still unnerved every time he saw Merlin or saw magic from the old wizard. Every time he looked at the wizened old man with the pointy hat and white beard, he felt his mind drudge up a faint memory of a similar white-bearded man from something like a dream.

It was like his dreams about flying motorbikes, brightly colored bubbles from a stick held by a smiling red-haired woman, or a lady vanishing into a cat and running off. Usually, the cat woman would accompany the old man. He had no idea where these dreams came from, but they usually ended in a flash of sickly green and high pitched, maniacal laughter.

"I'm ready!"

Harry and the others turned away from the screen and towards the shout. Sally had apparently changed out of her pink glamoured dress and was wearing a yellow gown with her brown hair in an odd pony-tail-ish style. She twirled for them and turned to the entryway she just came from when three gascots dragged out a grumbling and subdued Jeff. He was in a blue suit with gold trim. "I'm Belle and Jeff's the Beast!" She declared happily.

Harry pressed his lips together and saw he was having more success at not snickering than BEN, Toby, or even Jack. Jeff's glamour was still holding up, but his hair reverted back to the long, black mess in his unglamoured form and was pulled into a crude attempt at a ponytail. He grimaced as he was dragged out. Slendy raised an eyebrow at the ecstatic 8-year-old girl. "_And why did you dress up Jeff, Sally?_"

"Because he's the only boy with really, really long hair." She replied truthfully.

For once, Jeff mumbled and cursed his hair, muttering empty threats to cut it despite keeping it that exact way for years. He stalked over to a mirror and glared at the reflection before his hair color changed to its mousy brown color of the glamour, while still maintaining the length and style.

Slendy looked back at Yekcim, who nodded, and clapped his hands together. "_Alright, everybody, please stay together!_" With that, the tall entity made sure everyone under his care (including a loudly protesting Jeff) and a few gascots, including Kida, out from Room Zero and back to the surface.

* * *

Harry was sitting on one of the park's benches as the sun set happily taking bites out of some pink and blue candy floss, he had had one of the best days of his life here. He could see why Dudley Dursley was so adamant that his parents take him to amusement parks so often. He smiled as his "distancing" method became easier and easier each time.

Kida was sitting right next to him, somehow eating a mouse-head-shaped ice cream bar-on-a-stick through the odd cylinder under the mask without making a sloppy mess against it. Harry had long-since just accepted any anomalies as they were. He'd still ask questions if he could, but 9 times out of 10 the people who had the anomalies didn't know how they worked, themselves.

Surprisingly, it was almost as if Kida and the other gascots had built-in glamours. Everywhere they went, all of the adults didn't give her a second look. A few kids stared at her apprehensively, but were quickly shooed away by the adults to the next ride/attraction. The same was true for Yekcim. They stuck by him, but they found he was frequently requested to stand around a family or some (pretty terrified and crying/wailing) children and pose for a picture. Harry snuck a glance at one photo and it was still the same position, but Yekcim was the normal Mickey Mouse colors.

Still, this happened a few times and during a particularly full crowd of parents pressing for a picture, Yekcim just motioned for them to go on and explore and he'd catch up later. Slenderman took them to as many of the attractions as they could.

Harry, personally, found the Haunted Mansion ride fun. It was a lot like the Mansion, but, aside from Sally, had fewer ghosts. He enjoyed the Carousel of Progress and the Spinning Teacups simply because they were fun. Jeff leaned in during the Carousel presentation and whispered that someone had died from the rotating walls. The young boy shuddered, but was a lot more used to the psychopath's idea of "interesting".

Sally didn't appreciate his comment as well, claiming it "spoiled the attraction". So, in retaliation, she eventually dragged them all into the colorful castle (literally with Jeff, by dragging him by the heel). Harry thought the ride was interesting, but the song would be stuck in his head for a while. Though, he felt it was completely worth it as Jeff was steadily beating his head against the guard rail the entire ride. At one point, the ride completely stopped just before the end where they could get off and the scarred psychopath screamed, "Oh come on! What the actual f-" but was summarily silenced by Slenderman, reminding him that this was a children's ride.

Sally got her picture with "Belle", who looked a lot like the undead girl. Jeff reluctantly stood in the picture, too, next to the theme-park's costumed "Beast". Slenderman took about 4 photos to compensate for the first 3 being photo-bombed by an excited Toby.

Toby was just… Toby the entire time. He was very spontaneous and as child-like as a majority of the visitors there. Once, he tripped running at high speeds and half the park probably winced as a few rushed over to help fix his arm. He waved them off, saying it was fine and he didn't feel any pain (though he didn't tell them the extent of it), but discretely went to a less-noticeable spot to wrap spare bandages and gauze around the area where a… rather substantial amount of skin and flesh came off on his arm. E.J. promised Slendy he's take care of it later.

E.J. himself stuck around Sally most of the time, letting her "help him around". While he couldn't pretend to see something, he still rode on some rides with her and enjoyed the park's confections. Sometimes, when she'd go on a heavily visual-based attraction, he'd sit outside and read a book with letters and brail. He'd let his finger trail over the pages, pretending to read the bumps, but was just reading the actual print instead. Sure, after doing this for so often, he'd actually picked up brail, but he still preferred to read normally.

Harry stuck by Kida most of the day. She turned out to be a bit more reserved than the other gascots, but still pretty friendly. She explained to him her mask was of the icon of the park, Mickey Mouse, her dress was vintage from the 50s, and her favorite movies were the new Pixar computer ones. She explained that they had nothing like it when she was technically "alive". Other than that, they just had fun around the park. She told him some of the park's secrets to getting good food, short waits, the better rides, finding cool stuff, or "hidden Mickeys".

They went the rest of the day that way, leading up to the current moment at the park bench. Kida finished her ice cream bar as Harry was finishing his candy floss, she took his cone and tossed the popsicle stick and paper cone in a trash bin before excitedly dragging him off to another area, looking back at the castle and sunset position every few minutes.

"Almost time!" She said cryptically. Harry let himself be led to a small, hidden door in the wall of a shop. He followed her through and they came out at some stairs to a rooftop. When he got there, Slendy had removed his glamour and the others were already there with some lawn chairs and the gascots. Sally, E.J., and BEN were there sipping some sodas in a can while Slendy was sipping from a gold-ish colored can.

He sat down in one of the chairs with Kida next to him. "What's going on?"

The masked girl giggled and whispered conspiratorially. "It's a surprise. I don't want to ruin it."

Harry settled back in his chair, watching everyone below moving around and imagining what the surprise could possibly be. At one point, Jeff and Toby arrived with another gascot. Jeff grabbed a purple soda can from the cooler and eyed Slendy's drink before smirking. "I thought Disney didn't allow booze."

The entity shrugged. "_I just popped into Club 33. Literally, I teleported in. After a few days in parks like these, most parents would kill for a drink_." He took another sip.

Jeff scoffed. "And he's our ride home. Does that mean I get to be designated driver?" He grinned maniacally and eyed the car parking lot in the distance as though already planning which car to hijack for a road trip back up to New York. Toby jumped up and cried "Shotgun!"

Slendy gave them a "look", "_For one, driving and teleporting are hardly the same. For another, I don't get drunk. I biologically don't have blood or a liver. And lastly, I will wear Splendy's ridiculous outfit before you get anywhere behind a wheel, Jeffery_."

"I _am_ 15\. I _can_ have a learner's permit, you know. And I could easily pass for 16. Or even 20!" He closed his eyes to concentrate and adjusted his glamour and took on an older version of his glamoured self, but with some facial hair, scruffy clothes, and about 5 or 6 inches taller.

"_Jeff, stop that._" The murderer's form returned to normal and Slendy continued. "_Just wait, alright? It should be starting any-_"

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee-BANG!

Harry jolted and looked back at the castle. A bright red firework flowered around it, followed quickly by some blue, white, green, and purple ones. Harry watched, entranced, as the fireworks became more intricate. The usual flower-like patterns became more complex. A few smiley faces, some chrysanthemums, some weeping willows, and even a Mickey Mouse shaped one.

"YEAHHH! WOOOO! ALRIGHT!" Toby cheered. Harry laughed at the pyromaniacs excitement. Slendy, meanwhile, shook his head and muttered how it would be a cold day in Hell before he'd let Toby Rogers handle a firework.

The fireworks display came to a close with a bunch of roman candles sending up flare-like sparks on either side of the castle. Kida hopped up and down. "Oh! This is my favorite part!"

Harry watched her point to the very tip of the castle where a small woman in yellow and green lights was at the very edge of the castle ledge. Harry gasped as she jumped, but watched as she just glided down at an angle, waving around a blue wand-like light. After the woman vanished behind the horizon, Kida explained her excitement. "There's a zipline up there. A few of us get to go on it every night after hours. It's so much fun!"

Harry nodded. He imagined it felt like actually flying and he personally thought that must feel amazing.

The display was over and an announcement informed everyone that the park would be closing soon. People slowly filed out of the park, exhausted parents dragging kids who looked like they'd pass out on their feet, and his family stayed at the top of the store's roof. Yekcim appeared in a flurry of rust-colored mickey-mouse glitter and black swirls to see them off.

They said goodbye to everyone, Harry promising to keep in contact with Kida, and held hands as Slenderman teleported them back home.

* * *

"Dangit."

BEN wandered around the random neighborhood he wound up in. It wasn't terribly far from the Mansion, but he'd used the internet to find a connection a few towns over. He went glamoured (naturally) and aside from freaking out the family dog from the house with the computer he came through, no one saw him.

The air was getting cold and the trees were all bare, leaving leaves to rattle around the pavement like maracas. A sure sign that the holidays were just around the corner-

Well, that, and around 7/8ths of the entire neighborhood he was in had plastic Santas, plastic nativities, icicle lights, wreathes, reindeer, candy canes, and strand upon strand of lights all displayed proudly outside their home. BEN shook his head at all the hullaballoo the holiday caused. He stopped and nodded appreciatively at the 1/8 th of the neighborhood that were more sensible, like one house with just a wreath on the door and electric candles in the windows and another that was completely the same except for a small menorah in the window and a blue and white Star of David decoration hanging in another window.

He was pretty sure if when he was human, he celebrated Christmas, but he remembered a lot less in terms of prep work.

Either way, now he was here, wandering around this random neighborhood on his way back to the computer terminal after an unsuccessful day of shopping. He got Sally a gift a long time ago. Slendy would be fine with a tie or a mug. Jeff would get a card that said "f**k you" with a $10 card to Applebee's (literally, he had that one saved up for months as retaliation to a particular prank the scarred killer pulled). L.J. would be good with some chattering teeth or a jokebook.

No, the problem was Harry.

He felt he wanted to get the kid something at least, but since he'd only been there for a little under a month he had no idea what the new kid liked.

He thought back and ransacked his memory. He was always drew with Sally, but he got _her_ a gift for that, so he couldn't repeat it. He said he liked cooking, but he had no clue what cookbooks E.J. _didn't_ have and just printing something off allrecipes .com or someplace would be a cheap move.

He thought about what he could do that would give the kid something fun, something unique.

The last of the November leaves rattled along the pavement and BEN's eyes tracked them listlessly. They fluttered over the curb and across the city-owned lawn and into-

-a lake.

He stared as the brown leaves made ripples in the surface of the water. The lake was one of those retention lakes for excess storm water or a lake that just propped up during the land development as a feature for the neighborhood. This one was a mix of both, as it had a storm drain on the other end, but was large enough to support a nature path around it, some untrimmed, dead grass growing around it in a small marsh, a few willows around the bank and benches strategically placed around it. The edges had small, thin sheets of ice just beginning to form from the winter chill.

There was even a small, wooden dock extending a few feet into the structure.

It was peaceful.

BEN looked at the scene with unfocused eyes, repeating the thought in his mind. _Peaceful. Look at the bench. The willow. The lake. The cattails. The lake. The gravel path. The lake. The ripples. The waves. The _water.

He found his eyes had diverted and focused directly on the nearest lake bank. The icy, cold water laped against the edge of the dock posts. He followed the water away from the shallow, sandy bank and further towards the center of the lake.

The lake water became a murky, dark abyss of frigid cerulean and indigo, belying _something_ underneath. Invisible, cold hands seemed to reach out from the water, grasping just under the surface of the waves. He _swore_ he saw a large figure smoothly gliding as a shadow in the depths.

He felt eyes to the invisible hands watching his every movement, hearing every beat of his incorporeal heart, watching his movements like gremlins from fairy tales.

The echoed laughter of the Happy Mask Salesman skimmed around the water.

Bubbles clouded over his vision.

The world became an icy, dark blue.

Hands clawed at the shimmering sunlight above him indicating surface.

His blonde hair scraggled around as the surface drifted further and further away.

And he drifted further and further down.

Down.

Down.

Drown.

*GASP!*

He blinked rapidly, his eyes wirring around uncomprehendingly. The lake was there and he hadn't moved from his position on the sidewalk. His breathing was short and he had to slow down as his vision dimmed at the edges.

He put a hand to his chest and felt nothing. He was dead. Of course he had no heartbeat.

But the area the organ would be still clenched painfully and still felt like it should be beating a mile a minute.

He tilted his arm and glanced at his watch. An entire hour had vanished. He angrily cursed the panic attack. Slendy would probably lecture him about coming home late before giving him some more of Halloway's "tricks" for dealing with them.

He had his games. That was all he needed.

Even games like BioShock were fine despite being entirely underwater. He could still make it through them pretty alright, just a little on-edge. The worst it would get would be like Jak and Daxter with the piranha monster suddenly attacking in the ocean areas. That sent BEN under his bed for a solid two days and he didn't live it down for even longer.

He slowly set his hand to his side and stared at a few blades of grass in front of him. He found his limbs were unresponsive to his brain and he had to put in more effort before they would move from the spot. The entire time, he kept looking down, up, sideways.

At trees, leaves, dirt, pebbles in the sidewalk concrete, even his own shoes.

Anywhere but the water.

_Stupid water._

Eventually, he made it past the lakeview and was back to monotonous house after house decorated gaudily for the holiday season. He tucked his hands in his hoodie pockets. They were really just some pockets in his tunic glamoured into hoodie pockets, but they served the same purpose of just giving him somewhere to put his hands to stop them from shaking every now and then.

He saw in the distance the familiar stone façade to the house with the computer link he came through. He headed towards it with a quicker pace to make it before the family gets back. It was easier getting to and from the Mansion on the same line he got out from.

He was about to head to the backyard to inconspicuously phase through a window when he saw a house a few doors down. Specifically, he saw a large array of old furniture, paintings, junk, and miscellaneous scattered around the driveway on some cheap fold-out tables.

He grinned. A yard sale! That would be the perfect place to get a gift! Maybe the trip wasn't so useless in the end, after all.

He casually walked up to the displays, mingling with the five or six people already there and browsed around the area casually. This weirdo had everything; lamps, desks, couches, paintings, cups, spoons, Nintendo cartridges-

Nintendo cartridges?

He paused and leafed through them. He nodded, impressed with the collection. A few Kirby games, Mario, Legend of Zelda, Kid Icarus, Earthbound. He guessed the guy was either an avid gamer at some point in life or he had a kid who moved out.

He picked out a beaten up Pokemon box. It was for a Gamecube, which he had no-problem, and the game was called "Pokemon Channel". Reading some of the summary text and features he nodded approvingly.

The virus peeked inside the box, confirming that it actually _had_ a game inside before heading over to the owner.

The guy running the place was an old geezer who was looking around the driveway grumpily with his one good eye. His left one. The right eye had the same fogged-over look that E.J. got when he was glamoured, but BEN noticed that that when the left eye looked around, the right one would sluggishly move that same way or just lazily stare in one direction regardless. He was in an old lawn chair with a beer right next to him. He glared at each of the possible customers as if contemplating between letting them peruse versus suddenly whipping out a shotgun or pitbull and shouting at them to get off of his lawn.

The old man wore a heavy coat and scarf to fight the chill as well as a thermos of coffee beside him to counteract the effects of the cold beer. Why this guy had to have an outdoor yard sale in _December_ was beyond BEN, but this close to the holidays, he couldn't look a gift horse (or in this case, gift opportunity) in the mouth.

The prepubescent virus took a breath and started towards the man with the box in his hand. The old-timer's eye swiveled to meet his and the milky white one also came along this time. His eyelids barely widened, but still gave the briefest moment of shock before steeling back to their usual crankiness.

But still with a gleam of… wariness? Fear? Familiarity?

"What do ya want, kid?" His foggy eye seemed to pierce through the gross film right at the boy.

_Okay, serious creep factor_. Ben thought. He cleared his throat. "Uh, I was hoping to buy this game. So, how much is it? There weren't any labels around the games section."

The man looked over the box and nodded. "That's an old one. My brother's grandson loved those games over there. The boy's aunt, my niece, convinced me to sell them for her sister. I got a lot of them from her just collecting dust in my garage. This one was actually from some other kid, I think. Real whack-job, too. Practically gave it away to me. Last one I sold, though, was to this one other kid a few years ago."

He looked up from the box and back at BEN. "No idea why I sold it to the kid… not sure why I'd sell it to you…" The fogged over eye seemed to look through him as BEN edged away gradually. "… but you seem like a good kid. You remind me of my grand-nephew, actually… tell you what, you can just take the old thing."

Ben started. "Really?"

"Really. Now shove off before I change my mind."

Ben thanked the man and started down the driveway, he turned around and saw the old guy half-wave. Despite the murmur of the crowd and the distance, he could still make out what the old man said.

He walked back to the computer console, taking a small detour to avoid the old guy still watching him walk down the street. He got back to his room and slumped in the chair in front of his workbench. He pulled out the Nintendo 64 cartridge and looked at it, the old man's voice still echoing in his head. Eerie enough as it was alone, but it was oddly familiar:

"Goodbye, Ben."

* * *

**I do NOT own Mickey Mouse or Disney in any way, shape or form. *A Disney lawyer swoops in and changes from his/her bat form***

**Crow: Back! Back, I say! *holds up a piece of paper* The power of disclaimer compels you! The power of disclaimer compels you!**

**Lawyer: Hisssssssssssssss! Our main weakness! Noooo- *shrivels to ash***

***brushes stray ash off of clothing* Well, now that that's out of the way-**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any Pastas, Harry Potter, or Disney-related products. Sorry, not too many references this time.**

**Oh, by the way, that odd snippet with Slendy and the poptart was inspired by Sam Green and his video "Death of Nyan Cat 4".**

**I know Trenderman is kind of a gay stereotype and I know that it is completely untrue. I mean, I know a gay guy in my school who's an engineer major, doesn't give a damn about the latest fashion trends, doesn't speak with a lisp or sass, and thinks _West Side Story_ is boring. He told me he couldn't stomach five minutes of it. Literally, the DVD was five minutes in and he popped it out and prepped it to go back to the library.**

**And to give more detail into this, he put in _Silence of the Lambs_ afterwards. He's a great guy, hates flashy or tight clothing, and is a minor horror buff. And still, he's gay. Goes to show you can't pin an individual just from stereotypes.**

**For those of you confused with L.J.'s backstory; In advanced mathematics and physics, you'll find yourself dealing with things that equal the square root of -1. A negative square root doesn't physically exist in this dimension, but in theoretical work it's abbreviated "i" which literally stands for "imaginary number" because it doesn't really exist as an observable value.**

**So, I thought it made sense that Laughing Jack, the "imaginary friend" would come from an "imaginary world" where "imaginary numbers" exist.**

**Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

* * *

**-Gascots: "Room Zero" by Slimebeast**

**-Yekcim (inverted Mickey): "Abandoned by Disney" by Slimebeast**

**-BEN: "BEN DROWNED" by Jadusable**

**-Trenderman: Tumblr and Deviantart creations  
**


	9. A Creepy Christmas

**I don't own anything**

**-Crow**

* * *

"-ry!"

Emerald green eyes cracked open a sliver.

"-arry!"

They blinked in confusion.

It was almost like-

*BANG!*

"Harry! Harryharryharryharryharry!"

"Ooof!"

Harry woke up suddenly with the breath knocked out of him. His dazed brain made out that his bedroom door was wide open and a certain undead girl in pink was standing up against his bed leaning right on his stomach and bouncing, resulting in a forced "oof" each time.

"_Sally, I believe Harry would like to live to see at least five minutes of the day._"

Harry turned and saw a certain faceless entity in his doorway. He knew his guardian didn't have a face, but that still didn't mean he was absolutely certain the entity was snickering at him. The undead girl nodded, still shaking with excitement as she bounded away from the bedside.

Harry, still dazed, reached out and found his glasses on the dresser. Sally had bounded out of the room already. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and blinked away sleep before realizing that Slenderman was still in his pajamas. Truthfully, Harry hardly ever saw Slendy in pajamas. He'd always get up and change first thing. Only twice did he see Slendy in his night-wear. Once when he was on his way from the bathroom late at night when Slendy was sneaking downstairs for a snack, and another when Slendy burst into his room after a nightmare caused him to scream.

"_Well, Harry? Are you just going to stay in bed? Especially today?_" Slendy asked, still "smirking".

Harry blearily nodded, though he had no clue what the entity meant. The being chuckled at the child's bleary confusion, but left. Harry sat up and immediately brought his arm up against a bright, white light from his window. He let his eyes adjust before peering out.

Snow.

Lots and lots of snow. Normally, he'd dread snow as it'd mean shoveling the driveways at frigid hours of the morning. Compounded with the minimal warmth protection the Dursley family provided would usually mean Harry would come in shivering uncontrollably for hours on end.

Still, being able to look out the window without fearing the snow was peaceful, though Harry was still confused. What was so special about that day? Why get up so early?

He was broken out of his thoughts by an ecstatic Toby rushing past his door before backpedaling and looking right at him. His smile matching his permanent gash-grin. Wide and toothy. "C-come on, s-s-s-slowpoke! W-why are y-you still up h-h-here?" He asked excitedly, stammering over his words and ticking.

Harry could only blink in confusion. What was today?

Let's see… last Tuesday was the 20 th. He remembered going to see decorations with Sally. Saturday… er, yesterday, they went to the grocery store for a few things and Harry distinctly remembered that it was an awfully busy store that morning.

Wait… today was Sunday.

Sunday the 25th.

Harry sat up and beamed, matching Toby's own grin as he finally realized exactly what had everyone so excited.

It was Christmas!

* * *

Harry walked down the steps as opposed to Toby's bounding leaps down three, four, even five steps at a time. He was excited for the day. He picked out gifts for everyone and he wanted to see how they liked them.

He turned and walked into the living room before he was suddenly assaulted by a flurry of brunette hair.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Sally squealed excitedly. Harry looked around the room. Last night it looked like it always had. Today it had some green pine decorations and a few red bows. In the corner was an evergreen tree. Unlike the Dursley family who had always used a fake one, he could smell that the tree was a real pine.

Their tree was full and bushy and almost reached the top of the ceiling (and given that this was the Slenderman's house, that was saying something). A few crystal baubles in mostly shades of red decorated it along with some odd, black tinsel that looked like it was from Seedeater. In place of the star on top was a small, metal, crimson symbol with a circle and an X through it. Harry still hadn't thought to ask anyone about it, but it seemed prominent around Slenderman.

Slendy noticed his young ward's amazement with the tree. "_Yes, I called Mr. Torrance last week. He's very skilled with an axe and brought over the tree shortly after you went to bed_."

Harry nodded, still looking in awe at the decorated living room. Jeff was blearily sitting on the couch, barely keeping awake even with a mug of steaming coffee in his hand. Smile was doing his best to lick his master awake in the meantime, but given that it was 6:30 in the morning for the young killer, it would take some time.

E.J. was sitting by the window enjoying the snow, sipping a mug of cream-colored eggnog. Toby was kneeling in front of the fireplace, arranging logs and newspapers. Harry noticed E.J. nervously twitch his head (the eyeless equivalent to nervous glances) towards the excited pyromaniac.

Toby jumped up from his position, bouncing with excitement. "O-okay! Time to l-l-light the sucker up!"

"No flamethrowers!" E.J. said forcefully.

For a moment, Harry was certain the eyeless doctor was joking, until he heard the proxy go "awww" and toss away a compact, black flamethrower behind the couch. He pouted, but took out a match and lit the newspaper anyway.

Harry noticed that the structure was actually a very intricate log cabin with newspaper inside. Toby lit it through a "window" opening and, soon, there was a glowing, crackling, burning cabin in their fireplace. BEN and Sally were sitting next to each other, alternating between watching the icy snow fall or the blazing fire crackle.

Slenderman clapped his hands and announced it was time for presents. They gathered around in the sofas and chairs around the tree. "_Alright, everyone. Please take a gift and we'll rotate around_."

They each picked up a present from around the tree with their names on it. Harry was still sitting at his seat, not expecting anything for him. After all, in the Dursley's they told him he didn't deserve presents. Though, here it seemed like they would, but he didn't want to go up there and awkwardly find out he didn't. Though-

"Harry, here." Sally placed a black and red gift on his lap.

"_Harry, why don't you go first?_"

Harry was still stunned by the fact that he _had_ a gift. "Th-this is for me?" He whispered quietly. The others' smiles saddened slightly but they nodded encouragingly for him to open it. The budding wizard reverently opened the paper cover. He opened the plain box and pulled out a small video game cartridge.

It had the image of the 'Pikachu' character Toshio showed him. He opened the small card left in the box, which let him know Ben gave it to him. "I've never actually had a game before." He said and turned, smiling, to the virus. "Thank you."

BEN nodded before sheepishly looking away. "I'm glad you liked it. I'll show you how to set it up later, okay?" Harry nodded and set the cartridge to the side.

They continued going around, each opening each others' gifts. Harry noticed Slendy got mostly mugs and ties, but was still pleased with Harry's present for him; a necktie with the British Union Jack pattern on it. BEN blushed several new pixel shades of red after Sally gave a small peck-kiss on the cheek for his thoughtful little watercolor supply kit.

Most of the other gifts were relatively the same. BEN was happy with a game or some bit of broken electronics he could take apart upstairs. Laughing Jack would be ecstatic about any new pranking ideas or kits. Sally got a few dolls and drawing equipment. Jeff got some heavy metal CDs or a T-shirt.

One gift was from BEN and left Jeff grumbling. Apparently it was a card with an expletive (which Slendy forbade him from looking at, much less say) and a $10 gift card to an American food chain. BEN explained that it was in return for a prank earlier in the year involving several buckets of water and an unnecessary wake-up call.

Harry's gifts were pretty well received by everyone. Jeff loved his aerodynamic knives kit. Toby was ecstatic (or at least more-so than usual) over a throwing tomahawk kit. Slendy was visibly concerned until he made the teen promise to practice on stumps… far away from the mansion… and his garden. Brian (aka Hoodie) got some new filming equipment. Harry found he wasn't too talkative, but the proxy gave a "thumbs up" and appreciative nod from behind his perpetual-frowny-face mask. Tim (aka Masky) got a new set of beakers and some cigarettes that Harry asked Slendy to buy because of age restrictions. Smile happily chewed on a red, rubber, bone-shaped dog toy as soon as Harry opened the gift for him.

E.J. got a new set of scalpels and some "cool" shades for his glamour disguise. He wore them for the rest of the morning. L.J. was giddy over a chemical set from a joke shop. He was perusing the "how-to" manual and Slendy groaned about the stink bombs that were sure to ensue.

Sally was squealing with delight when she opened her gift from Harry. He asked Slendy to shadow-walk him back to the UK where he got a real ceramic tea set. Sally had been using the American plastic molds during her many tea parties, so an actual ceramic tea pot and cups was perfect. They even picked up several tea blends straight from the UK shops. She cordially invited him to her next tea party for that and he, with a bow and as much "posh" as he could manage, accepted.

Even though they weren't there, Harry sent some gifts to Toshio and Kida. He remembered Toshio saying that they don't really have much need for actual objects cluttering space, so he sent over some authentic American chocolates and jams. The reply said they were perfect and everyone enjoyed them. He remembered Kida saying she enjoyed the new computerized animation, so he sent her some animation software to use on the console they shared in Room Zero. That afternoon, he got an email excitedly listing all of the projects she was planning and how much she'd already learned.

Harry, likewise, received various gifts from his newfound "family" as well. Eyeless Jack gave him a few medical and science books along with an offer to try to learn to dissect something. Harry tentatively agreed after the eyeless doctor promised it would just be a frog and not one of the cadavers. Doctor Halloway sent over some psychology books and a few books on the brain's anatomy. He expressed an interest in it after a few sessions and she kept that in mind as she picked out his gift. Slendy got him some piano books and a promise for a few lessons later on, if he would like.

Sally's gift was a couple really nice sketchpads and some pencils. L.J. gave a standard-issue prank kit and a jokebook. Toshio sent over some of the backwards comics, er "manga", that he showed him. One had a picture of a blonde kid in bright orange with something in his mouth. The orange text said "Naruto" underneath and there were about five or six of them in a bundle. The other few books had another kid in orange, but with black, spiky hair and was riding what looked like a green dragon. The text said "Drag n Ball". It took him a bit to realize it was "Dragon" with the "o" being an odd, orange orb. Kida sent over some Disney memorabilia and a small figurine of Mickey Mouse wearing a red robe and an odd, blue conical hat. For some reason, Slenderman and E.J. snickered when they saw it.

Toby gave him a book. It was a black book with a bold title, _"The Anarchist Cookbook_". Slenderman raised an eyebrow at how Toby, Jeff, and L.J. were simultaneously snickering. Harry cracked open the cover and silently read a few of the chapter titles. His eyes widened at the chapter titles alone and quickly understood that he probably shouldn't let him see it.

Toby leaned in when Slendy wasn't looking and whispered. "I'll teach you how to make napalm later."

Mr. Widemouth sent a small brown package, as well. Inside was a set of five, small juggling knives and a note to Slendy explaining how they were "better than kitchen knives; much safer." They were summarily confiscated by the faceless entity. To be honest, Harry didn't mind. Mr. Widemouth sometimes gave him the creeps.

They were winding down the last few gifts. Finally, it was Harry's turn for the last present. It was a black gift with red, swirling patterns on it. He pulled off the decorative wrapping and pulled out what was inside.

It was a facemask. A lot like one of the gascots, but without the air filter cylinder. It clasped in the back using straps, so only the face was covered. The "mouth" area had some filter slits in it for breathing and resembled a winter face mask, but what was most interesting was the fact that the eyes had a pair of dark, foggy glass lenses.

He excitedly put it on and was amazed that the lenses in the eyes were actually his exact prescription, meaning he could take his glasses off. He found it was relatively easy to breathe in after he got used to it. He looked around through the lenses and saw BEN nudging Jeff who was pointedly staring in an arbitrary direction.

"So, Jeffy, I guess that little thing was your "magazine" I heard about. Eh?"

The eyelid-less psychopath scoffed, "Shut up, tech-geek." BEN and Toby kept playfully nudging him while calling him a "softie", much to his ire. Even E.J. was grinning in the background.

Slenderman turned to Harry. "_So, Harry, how is it?_" The boy nodded and spoke behind it. His voice echoing slightly. "It's really cool! I can even see without my glasses!"

Sally got up close to check out the lenses and gasped in surprise. "Woah! Harry, your eyes are glowing!"

The others crowded around to get a glimpse as well. It was true. The lenses' prescription was a match for Harry and, as a result, they amplified the green color of his eyes, but the enclosed space of the mask and complete darkness behind it allowed a faint glow to come through. Slendy theorized later that this was the result of his "magical" abilities bleeding through and going unnoticed until they were observed closely and in darkness.

With the mask on and Harry's peculiar glowing, the lenses went from the dark grayish-black to a vivid, emerald green. Harry experimented with his eyes for a second and everyone watched as he forced more of the "energy" in him to his eyes, causing the lenses to glow like two, green headlights before dimming back down to normal, eliciting applause from the surrounding tenants.

He took off his new mask and they started cleaning up their wrapping paper strewn about, before Slenderman stood up and mentally cleared his throat. "_Harry, I have one more gift for you. It's more like a gift from everyone, so I thought it would be best to save for last_."

He pulled out a small envelope from his suit pocket and gave it to Harry. The young boy looked it over before ripping the top and unfolding the paper inside. The entire thing was a large bundle of "legal-ese", but he could clearly see what was at the very top of it.

"Transfer of Guardianship"

The faceless entity knelt down with everyone else getting closer. "_Harry, it isn't signed yet, but we thought we ought to give you an option. This paper is along the lines of the Contracts we use in the Underrealm. There's nothing dangerous, just a standard guardianship form, but it does override any other legal documents and is rather permanent, but still-"_

Slenderman "looked" directly at the young wizard, holding a hand up in offering. "_Would you like to stay with us?_"

Harry blinked, still stunned. He glanced from the forms to the being in a suit in front of him to the others crowded around. The new memories came flooding. Jeff's perpetual grin. Sally's cheerful excitement. BEN's game nights. Playing fetch with Smile Dog. Helping Eyeless Jack cook dinner. Harvesting from Slenderman's garden.

Over the past month and a half, so much had changed that the Dursleys and Privet Drive seemed a lifetime ago. He looked back at the forms in his hands and then back to the expectant faces of his new family.

He nodded.

The living room occupants cheered as Slendy took out a small fountain pen from his pocket and had Harry sign on the dotted line at the bottom before sending them to the Council in a small burst of fire. That afternoon, Harry helped in the kitchen excitedly using the word "family" as often as he could while mashing potatoes, prepping turkey, or cutting vegetables. That night, they enjoyed a great meal and Harry couldn't feel more at home.

* * *

After dinner and celebrations, the tenants went upstairs. BEN led Harry to the family room with his own personal GameCube apparatus. He showed Harry how to set it up and led him through the controls before heading off to his own room. He wanted Harry to enjoy the game without his (admittedly impulsive) back-seat gaming, so he left Harry to explore the new toy.

'_Besides_,' He thought, grinning as he climbed the stairs, '_I've got a date with the lovely Laura Croft and a couple zombie hordes tonight_.'

Harry started up the game and was rewarded with a loading screen with a game already on file. He didn't want to delete the game and, out of curiosity, wondered exactly what the other person had done on it. He selected it and it opened up to a dark room.

He moved about the space cautiously. It was unusually dilapidated for the brightly-colored cover on the box it came in. The furniture was broken and covered with what looked like rust or mold. The walls had some scribbled drawings on them with short, scratchy phrases on them. The character kept moving around and the only splash of color that stood out in the room was a bright yellow doll on the desk in the corner. Approaching it, he saw it looked a lot like an eerie version of that "Pikachu" thing Toshio talked about.

"_Pikaaa…_"

Following the noise on the speakers, Harry turned around and saw a bed object with a messy, dark red comforter draping towards the floor. He watched as a yellow cat popped out from underneath. After the "cat" stood on its hind legs, Harry realized it was an actual "Pikachu", instead of a doll.

The Pikachu looked at his character with black eyes holding a glint of red. Unlike Toshio's depiction of the bright, cheerful, chubby mouse-like Pokemon, this Pikachu's fur was still yellow, but it was less of a "cheerful" yellow and more… an almost sickly goldenrod color and patches of it had bright red smears on it. Additionally, unlike the well-fed depiction, it was much skinnier, not quite emaciated, but definitely close. Harry was also stunned to see some patches of fur covered with scabs, scars, and several fresh cuts.

It grinned at the camera or character model and showed it had pointy teeth more like Laughing Jack's.

"Pika pi."

A blip sounded and Harry saw the screen taken over by a small text box "_My name is BRVR_."

"Pi pika pichu." Another box. "_I was your brother_."

"Pi pika?" "_BRVR wants to know if you love him._"

Harry was surprised that another text box popped up with a "Yes" next to the "Y" button and a "No" next to the "X" button. Harry didn't know what to make of it. He barely knew this character, so he couldn't fairly say he loved or hated it yet. He pressed the green "A" button instead.

BRVR's long ears pricked up and Harry got the impression that the character was staring _through_ the screen for the first time.

"Pika pi" "_You are not brother._"

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just shook his head and mumbled 'no'. BRVR seemed genuinely surprised before it slumped down sadly and shuffled its way under the bed. Harry called out. "Wait!"

To his surprise, the figure actually stopped midway under the bed and turned to him. Harry spoke awkwardly at the screen itself. "M-my name's Harry."

The video game character got further out from under the bed and faced the camera. "Pika-chu" "_Hello, Harry_."

The young wizard was taken aback by this comment. A video game that _heard_ him. He wondered if a lot of video games did that, but Dudley got his hands on the newest, coolest ones and none of them (from what he'd heard or seen briefly) had anything like that. His mind thought back to BEN. The tenant was technically a computer virus and he definitely talked back. He guessed after that, this was definitely possible.

More confidently, he addressed the screen- no, he adjusted it so his focus was directly at BRVR. "What are you?"

"Pika." "_I am BRVR._"

Harry frowned before his eyes flitted around, reevaluating the question. "I mean, are you a computer ghost like BEN? Or an internet person like Funnymouth?"

"Pika." "_I am BRVR._"

He sighed before thinking again. "Well, you said you had a brother. Who is he?"

"Pika pi pika **piiikaaa**" "_He is like you. Human. He was my **best friend**._" The screen glitched for a second when typing out the last two words, but regained composure immediately after.

"What happened to him."

"Pi." "_He left me."_ "Pi"_ "For a girl._"

"I'm sorry. You must've been lonely." The video game character nodded in confirmation before it began shrinking in on itself again. "Hey, BRVR?" The Pikachu ignored him and shuffled back under the bed. Harry waited a few moments before sadly putting the controller on the coffee table and lying on the couch, glancing back at the table.

He supposed it must have been sad for the little guy. He was obviously alive, so he must have feelings like loneliness. He couldn't understand why a boy would go after a girl, let alone abandon his best friend for one. Then again, he was seven. Though he still had no clue why those older boys and girls would keep kissing for really, really long periods of time. It was just gross. Why wou-

"Pika."

He was broken out of his contemplations by the familiar voice through the speakers. He turned back to the screen and saw BRVR's head peaking out of the dark crevice under the bed. Above him was his usual text box.

"_You are still here._"

It wasn't a question, but a surprised statement. Harry nodded. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be here?"

(Lots of "pika"s that don't need to be written) "_Brother left me. He would turn off my game. It would be lonely again. But you left me on. You didn't leave. Why?_"

Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Why would I leave? You're really cool and you seemed like you needed someone to be with."

The small pokemon's face traveled through a confusing array of emotions; happy, embarrassed, sad, gleeful, angry, confused. Its programming was not meant for whatever this emotion was. The character tossed away the programming like an old manual and winged it based upon this confusing feeling.

He smiled.

Harry grinned back at BRVR, noticing his teeth were still kind of pointy but less Laughing Jack-like and more like a cat's in that it was much more natural and/or benign.

"_Harry wants BRVR?_"

He nodded and was ecstatic as he watched the little video game character dance around the room before bouncing up and down on the messy, dusty bed. After a few moments of glee, the bloodstained entity (still a demonic program, remember) jumped in front of Harry's camera. "_What do you want to do now?_"

Harry thought for a moment before shrugging. "What do you do here?"

BRVR spent the next hour or so showing the young boy around the single room and the outside garden and forest area. Harry was unnerved to see decaying bits of other creatures laying around, but the screen would static and BRVR would reappear with the yard devoid of the frightening images though the grass and foliage was still gray-ish and the sky was red. He picked out the color of the room's wallpaper with the small pokemon giving input through his textboxes.

The excited video game character showed him to a pond where they spent a few hours fishing. Mostly they came up with boots (with a few human-esque feet inside them) and a few mutated water pokemon. BRVR seemed to be enjoying his time spent with Harry and would occasionally hop around and pull out some easter egg objects or show hidden glitches in the game.

Harry was smiling so often, he barely noticed when he yawned and the screen began to go blurry.

* * *

BRVR was sitting next to the camera-model that indicated the screen of the human. It looked like a child-sized robot with a large, flat screen for a head and two mechanical arms. He was used to this, it was the way users interacted with the program itself usually. It even had an Ash Ketchum hat incorporated in as a joke by the programmers.

They were fishing in the bloody lake out in the forest area. The scarred pokemon exclaimed when the bobber went under and the prompt for the player to pull up showed, but was surprised when nothing happened and the spawned entity got away, letting the fishing game reset itself with the bobber back in the red water.

BRVR looked into the screen and saw an image of new-brother Harry lying on the large-sitting-place-for-humans...er, "couch", dead asleep. He glanced at the in-game clock and conceded that perhaps 11:00 PM was a bit late for a human. Especially a mini-one.

He willed the program to warp around them and the fishing gear disappeared. He got into the "player-bot" control program and made the camera model make awkward and robotic steps back to the house. They returned to the main room and the character model sat in a desk chair facing the bed.

BRVR looked around the room again. New-brother Harry did a good job of it. Instead of his rage-induced bloody wallpaper, broken furniture, and eerie dolls, the wallpaper was cream-colored with red accents. The furniture was mostly restored, but his new-brother said a lot of the furniture his old-brother called creepy or freaky was really cool. Finally, they agreed to remove the Pikachu Z dolls (save one, on new-brother Harry's insistence). The shelves were bare, but they had put a few collectibles they'd found in the past few hours.

The program entity sighed contentedly before disappearing back underneath the bed, engaging in sleep mode as well.

* * *

Slenderman walked through the Mansion one last time to check up on his wards.

He cautiously moved down the hallway his wards occupied. Sally had been playing with her new dolls and he had to tuck her in with a few of them before she'd agree to go to sleep.

Walking past BEN's room, he sighed as the *zap* and *blast* of lasers and explosions could be heard bleeding through his door. He opened it up and, sure enough, BEN was already on a game, shooting what looked like skeletal aliens into green goo. A short scolding, a "five more minutes", a quick denial, and a few grumblings later, and BEN was in bed, too.

He passed Jeff's room, practically feeling the bass notes thumping through the heavily-insulated walls and floors (he like his silence when he slept). Opening the door, he found the scared psychopath in a white T-shirt and his red boxers "rocking out" (as "hip" kids called it these days) to some very heavy-metal rock music blasting from a speaker set partially buried under "Mt. Week-Old-Socks-manjaro" with Smile bounding around excitedly at his feet.

"_Listening to their crie-ie-ie-ies, oh yeah! Watching the bodies fa-a-a-all, aaaaallll theeeeeee waaaaay, Dow-ow-ow-ow-own,_" Jeff shout-whispered in sync with the lyricist. "_And we'll ne-ver be brought 'rou-ou-ound!_"

With that he swiveled on his heel and turned to the door. Smile mimicked the action and both caught sight of the tall figure in their doorway.

They froze quicker than a goldfish in liquid nitrogen upon noticing their audience. The music awkwardly kept going until Jeff discretely threw a soda can at it… then a knife, and effectively silenced the machine, still staring at Slendy with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.

To his credit, Slendy didn't "laugh", but quietly closed the door and leaned against the wall, "smirking", as he heard the sounds of teen angst and wailing over the absolute, sheer shame and embarrassment drift through the door. He figured, once thoroughly brought down a few pegs, the psychopath would put himself to sleep soon enough and wandered away.

He finally walked to Toby's room. He paused and took a "breath" before opening the door.

Toby was in his light blue pajamas and bare feet sitting by the windowsill. His room was completely dark, save for pale moonlight spilling in through the open window, the curtains drifting and floating around from the winter breeze. Toby didn't mind the cold, he never could feel it. He just stared vacantly at the silvery disk in the sky beaming down at him.

As Slendy approached, he was glad to note that Toby's arm bandages were still in one piece and hadn't been shredded off like his last episode. He did notice that the human's fingers and toes were starting to turn a dull purple and a waxy red from the cold Toby couldn't perceive.

"Do you hear them?"

Slenderman was surprised by the soft whisper, but the teen went on.

"They keep talking to me. Sis is saying it was my fault. All my fault. I distracted her. I caused her to miss the stoplight. Dad keeps yelling at me. Calls me a 'worthless shit'. My fault. All my fault." He mumbled quietly.

The entity watched as the mumbling slurred before slowly holding his arm to pull him up. A tentacle snaked out and closed the window, heat returning to the room almost immediately. Then, like leading a sleepwalker, he got Toby back in his bed. The teen pulled the covers himself and closed his eyes as the unintelligible murmuring quieted.

Again, Slendy gave a breathless sigh. The holidays were hard on Toby. Particularly later at night.

He carefully examined Toby's fingers peeking out of the comforter. From what he knew about human frostbite, it was very mild and the boy's Proxy metabolism was already healing any damage that might have occurred, restoring the normal fleshy color. He concluded that Toby would be fine, though he may find his fingers a bit stiff in the morning. If he could feel anything, he'd say it felt "sore" as well.

He closed the door, careful to keep it quiet, before heading off towards Harry. The other tenants were old enough to deal with themselves and their own "bedtimes", like the Rake or Eyeless Jack, but he felt it prudent to check up on his last ward. He hadn't seen Harry since they'd finished up dinner and Slender began conversing with some other guests over drinks.

After all, the contract was streamlined through the system immediately upon signing and was filed universally. So, in all legal ways, it was set.

Harry Potter was an official ward of the Slenderman.

He reached Harry's room and nudged open the door before glancing around. The bed was still made and he didn't see the boy anywhere else in the dark. He sent out a brief pulse for life signs in the room and came back negative. He vaguely remembered BEN talking about a video game with Harry as the guests began enjoying the post-dinner eggnog and scotch. He made his way downstairs.

The floor was dark save for the light flicker from the old flame-lamp sconces on the wall set low and a steady, blue beam of light coming from the doorway. He sighed before walking in and looking around. The television was on some type of video game and was only showing a messy bed. He never quite understood these modern games, but he definitely couldn't see the appeal of watching a bed all day. He turned to the couch and found his newest ward lying on it with the controller still limply in his hands. He carefully plucked it out before returning it to the coffee table and picking up Harry in his arms.

As he walked out, one of his tentacles went back and pushed the power button to the television, but he forgot the console and left the GameCube itself running.

* * *

Harry groggily became aware of movement. He was being carried a good ways off the ground and his bleary mind could mentally process that he was in Slendy's arms. He continued to focus on the movement until he felt himself lower in altitude onto his now-familiar mattress followed by the weight of his comforter blanket.

He cracked his eyes open a bit and saw the shadowy figure of his new father-figure disappear out the door.

He thought back to the pokemon he met. BRVR was just lonely and scared and it looked like he was hurt, too. Harry noticed as the pokemon jumped around as they played, it tended to favor the left leg more and try to avoid its right leg. Even then, he caught it limping slightly a few times. He felt like the video game entity just needed help. He seemed like he genuinely just wanted a friend.

A friend.

He felt the world begin to close in on him as his brain was pulled into the warm comfort of his pillow.

He wished he could be that friend.

He really wished he could help BRVR.

He really… wished… BRVR…

…

* * *

'Twas the night of dear Christmas,

With no one awake,

Not a creature was stirring

Not even the Rake.

.

The presents were had,

The turkey devoured.

Not even the gift cards

Made the day sour.

.

The wards were all nestled

Snug tight in their beds

While visions of napalm

Blazed in Toby's head.

.

And in a room,

Loved dearly by many,

Lay the little wizard

whose name was Harry.

.

And as we all know,

from TV specials galore

Christmas is the time

Of miracles and more.

.

For on that night,

Came a small burst of light

That flowed out from Harry

And turned to the right.

.

It flew down the stairs

And straight to the tube.

What the orb wanted,

No one else knew.

.

The device, it flickered

And fritzed with snow.

Then it went black

With silence in tow.

.

But the light was diminished.

The magic was through?

.

And then from the couch,

Came a sleepy-

.

"Pika-chu…"

* * *

In the most magical place up North, an ancient-looking man with a snow-white beard was sipping a drink in front of a fireplace from an ornate chair. Around him, devices and gadgets and toys were littered around. On his desk were bits of a new device he was designing. Below were the work space where his elves worked tirelessly, anxiously prepping delightful surprises for the multitude of children.

This old man was currently taking a break from the usual, hectic schedule and life he lived and was currently deep in thought.

…

Sorry, no, it's not Santa Claus (nor Father Christmas).

It was a very frosty Christmas in that region of Scotland. Albus Dumbledore sat in his stiff high-backed chair in his office, staring into the dark fireplace, filled with long-cold ash that was once his fire. He let it burn out to keep out any Floo calls anytime soon and personally put a ward against any visitors. The only light in the room came from a single, dim candle flickering on his desktop.

All around him were his tracking devices and gadgets. All of them were silent and eerily still, like wire statues collecting dust. The bits on his desk were from one he, in his absolute frustration, smashed apart and began examining to see if it could be repurposed as a new tracker.

Now, he was in his chair, sipping a Firewhiskey from a shot glass. He never drank often, but he could see why his brother would enjoy this particular drink and serve it in his pub.

He got up and walked over to the window, staring out at the cold, white layer of snow outside. It was undisturbed as the children had all gone home before the snowfall. The pale, blue light of the moon cast a mournful spotlight over the dark landscape. The shadows blurred to blues and grays against the sparkling icy crystals in the snow. The lake had frozen over completely, capturing the ripples and waves in mid-stroke, reflecting the pale disk of a moon like a distorted mirror.

The entire castle was enshrouded in darkness save for the light of his one, small candle and the moonlight.

The cold, drafty castle was completely devoid of life. It was one of the rarest occasions, but by no means unwelcomed by the aged headmaster, where every child went home for the winter and none stayed behind. Every staff member down to Severus and Filch were gone.

Filch was out because his cat, Mrs. Norris, was in a muggle veterinarian's surgical clinic after students played a particularly dangerous prank on the beast and St. Mungos would do nothing for the lonely old squib. Snape had a potions conference in Prague that he had been silently enthusing about for weeks. Despite his best efforts, the headmaster's passive Legilimens allowed him to peek into the potionmaster's head and see the young man was as ecstatic as Minerva whenever her prospects of winning the House Cup were better than usual.

The ghosts were all off in distant lands, convening with other ghosts or haunting crotchety, old men with visions of their Christmas Past, Present, and Future. The few that stayed kept themselves isolated to their towers, dungeons, secret rooms, or (with Myrtle) toilets. Upon realization of this, he personally banished Peeves the Poltergeist to a muggle house in Albania, fully intent upon enjoying the rare opportunity of the entire castle to himself.

Even Fawkes had decided to phoenix flame to the Bahamas for a few days.

The elves were currently sent away to farms for buying supplies for feasts and then to a small facility miles away for preparations of those materials for consuming; such as milk pasteurization, jam and jelly making, marinating, and so forth.

As he understood it, every elf in the kitchens and on cleaning duty was currently away at those locations, taking time to get a head start on food preparations before the year began.

He nodded at the solitude and returned to his chair briefly. He had taken up the anxious habit of pacing or going from sitting to standing and back to sitting with no real meaning to it, but it helped him think.

And right now, being in the silence of Hogwarts gave him time to reflect and focus on the biggest migraine plaguing him for the past few weeks.

Harry bloody Potter.

He dropped the boy off with the Durlseys with the sole intent of ensuring the child had a miserable existence before coming to the Wizarding World. He knew full-well that the Dursleys loathed magic, but he needed the boy's self-esteem reduced to near-zero. He needed to be compliant and malleable to whatever Dumbledore said. Most of all, he needed to revere every word the old wizard spoke.

He planned it so carefully. The boy would need to be beaten and abused at his muggle home, then he would have his letter delivered and introduce Harry to wizardry and become the grandfatherly mentor in the child's eyes. After that, it was simple to just manipulate a few things here and there, ensure some things went off there and just like that, he'd have his perfect weapon against Voldemort.

A perfect, self-sacrificing weapon that he would use as the champion of the light… until he had to be killed, that is.

He knew from the moment he saw that scar that the link between Harry and Voldemort existed and, in all likelihood, was a key aspect to Voldemort's continued existence in this plane (if Severus' Dark Mark was any indicator) and his eventual return. He needed that link. He needed Voldemort to come back to power… in time.

With the prospect of having the Boy-Who-Lived backing his every move, he would unite the Wizarding world against the common enemy, Voldemort, and, once again, be seen as the hero of the century.

And in the process of Voldemort returning, he could… stave off the flood of new ideas that threatened their way of life.

Dark Lords had the added bonus of removing too forward-thinking Muggleborns or pureblood families. As time rolled on, he saw the fresh blood as a wonderful addition to their society (which would crumble from inbreeding otherwise), but he disapproved of the plethora of "modern" ideas they brought with them. These "cell phones", "laptops", and "light bulbs" all threatened the sanctity of his immaculate society.

The new reign of terror would ensure these ideas would never come to pass. Too many uppity muggleborns perished before their ideas would come to pass or their ideas would be thoroughly ignored and unfunded and eventually fall through the cracks. After all, they couldn't possibly be so innovative with constant threat over them. It just encouraged them to think more like wizards in terms of spells and wards and ensure their assimilation to the immaculate, Wizarding World.

Plus, within the last century those Dark Lords ensured that practically no one from the muggle world came forward with ideas to taint the wizarding culture. First Grindelwald, then Voldemort. Almost in exact succession. The most recent innovation inspired by muggle culture was that blasted Wizarding Wireless that came about after Grindelwald and between the "lull" period when Voldemort was rising, but when Tom did come into power, nothing new came to be.

And with Harry as his pupil and weapon, he could be seen as the hero once more and take the reins to steer the world back into the state it was always in, especially after Harry died tragically while weakening Tom and then he, the Great Albus Dumbledore, would finish him off for good.

But of course, the Potter boy vanished!

He could guess an approximate day as it woke half the castle in the middle of the night when it occurred and set off the alarms. That much was obvious.

No, the pertinent question was _how_. How had that blasted boy gotten so far out of his reach? How had he managed to vanish off of the face of the earth? Who were those four figures and what was that strange magic? Where was he hiding and, more importantly, what could be done to wrench the boy back to him?

Tinkering with his tracking devices was ultimately useless. They were tied to Harry Potter through his blood. Any apparation trails or Portkey residue could be followed. If the boy got within five miles of the border, a train, or one of those muggle "air planes", he would be alerted and a global tracking charm would automatically kick in. He guessed that the aforementioned strange magic was the culprit once more in this mysterious disappearing act.

Though, now, each and every one of them was utterly useless from the moment after they stopped working. Even if Harry Potter waltzed right into Hogwarts without him knowing, the sensors wouldn't pick it up anymore.

If he had the boy again, he could collect a blood sample and key them up once more, but now they were just useless desk toys.

Of course, he considered owl messaging, though he didn't have a definite location. His owls were addressed simply to "Harry Potter", but the owls would take the messages, fly in a circle around the castle to get their bearings before returning with a defeated hoot that indicated either the boy was impossibly out of reach for an owl to fly to or, quite possibly, he was hidden behind powerful wards of unknown origin. Most likely from the strange magic that caused the portal.

Though, he was happy to find that a few interesting spells he'd picked up (somewhat less-than-legal, but nobody needed to know that) had caused the owls to get further out and more towards a direct location than before. Though, a majority of the owls he sent never returned. Scrying spells indicated they had perished horrifically. Even sending more ludicrous and unorthodox creatures with mail had little to no effect.

He needed to wrench control back from blind chance. He'd already obliviated a few muggle guards and police around Surrey and managed to get the Dursley family together.

A few potions from Severus and he'd regrown their curiously missing organs and a bit of light obliviation and memory-modification ensured they would not remember the ordeal that resulted in the boy vanishing. He'd taken out some money from the Potter Vaults to fully rebuild #4 as close as he could. He transfigured anything that was missing from some chunks of charred wood from the original structure, right down to the outrageous amount of frivolous toys their child had.

Everything was set to send Harry back to the Dursleys and the plan could resume (with some memory charms on Harry as well), but the only question was _where was he_?!

He got up, creaking from his chair and strode over to the window once more. He peered out into the darkness as though it would locate the boy, but the only living things for miles around were the merpeople, squid and grindylows all frozen beneath the ice.

His only solace was that the lone device on a pedestal in the center of the room released small puffs of smoke and told him the boy was, indeed, alive.

His brilliant mind decided the only foolproof solution would be to wait. The Official Hogwarts Letters had ancient magic associated with them. They could pass through any ward, mail redirect, or even solid walls if necessary.

Oh, he still planned to send a few letters, try a few charms, anything to lessen the wait, but the Hogwarts Letter was an inevitability that would work no matter what happened.

Harry would come here, to Hogwarts. From there, Dumbledore would gain control over him from whoever took him and keep the boy under his thumb. He would be sent back to his abusive relatives to crush any free spirit he acquired in the time gone, then he would be led through his Hogwarts career as the sacrificial lamb before meeting his ultimate fate at the hands of Voldemort.

Yes, it would be tedious and painstaking, especially once the boy reaches 11. A young child is much easier to manipulate. However, he was confident his work would bear fruit. He just needed to be patient.

His perfect weapon would come to him eventually.

His low chuckle traveled into the dark evening, echoing into the icy wasteland as the lone candle stood in the darkness, a lone window illuminated in the cold, dark, empty castle.

* * *

**Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter and pretty much all Creepypastas mentioned before now.**

**The song Jeff sings doesn't exist... that I know of, at least. I literally just typed up a few angsty things to say and extended it to a scream metal format.**

**Thank you unknownwolf1996 for your suggestion to incorporate BRVR. I really enjoy the concept and I hope you do too!**

**Note****: "The Anarchist Cookbook" is a heavily controversial and (in some states/regions) illegal text. I am not responsible in any way for anyone purchasing, using, or screwing up with the contents of the book. I also do not condone harm caused to others accidentally or (especially) intentionally by using this text. I heard about this from a funny RoosterTeeth animated and thought it'd be the kind of thing Toby would give. Remember, Creativity, not Reality.**

* * *

**-BRVR: "Pokemon Dead Channel" by WarriorKloneomon**

**-Mr. Torrance: "The Shining" by Stephen King; book and movie**

**-Ash Ketchum Hat: "Pokemon"; anime**

**-"Trainer-Bot" was inspired by Wreck-It Ralph's first-person-shooter-bot from Hero's Duty**


	10. Of Exploration and Enragement

**Hello everyone!** **Please enjoy this long chapter!**

**This features some of the recent changes to Harry's life along with backgrounds to several pastas.**

**Finally, there is a small section that establishes an important bit of headcanon.**

**-Crow**

* * *

The black-haired boy sat in a meditative position on his bed. Slenderman had him started on small exercises to help him keep calm and organize his thoughts. His father figure told him it would help control his frea- gift.

Despite his new family's insistence that it was not a bad thing, he still flinched, winced, or ticced whenever he heard any synonym for "abnormal". He supposed he was getting better, but it was a gradual process, as Doctor Halloway assured him.

He felt the energy in him swirl around his chest like a small whirlpool. His hair ruffled around him as he felt a now-familiar breeze that tended to swirl in the same direction as the energy whenever he focused like this. He liked to imagine it was like his Naruto manga's "chakra" and he could imagine the coils flowing around his body. Though, he tried "tree-walking" earlier in the week and fell flat on his back each time, so he didn't get his hopes up about a 'Rasengan' anytime soon.

He let the breeze continue for a few minutes before he got himself out of it. When he opened his eyes, his room was still in one piece. He remembered the first time he tried this while sitting on the floor, the "breeze" was a tornado and by the time he came to, his bed was embedded in the wall and his desk was out the shattered remains of the window.

He kept apologizing to Slendy and essentially punishing himself by sleeping on the floor in the drafty window (during Winter none-the-less), but Slendy had him stay in a spare room and do his meditation practices in an empty grove nearby until he was able to get the hurricane force down to a mildly strong wind.

Somehow, Slendy knew a few others who got the room back to the way it was before the week was over.

Back in the present, he looked around his room and clicked his tongue in annoyance to find a stack of papers fell on the floor. He picked up the sheet music and started organizing it by movement and page number.

After Christmas, he'd taken up Slendy's offer of piano lessons and even asked Jeff for some guitar lessons. Laughing Jack eagerly offered accordion lessons, but Harry politely declined (which led to the clown sulking in a corner, playing a sad piece on his instrument).

He finished organizing the works and set it in a neat stack on the desk. He walked over to the bed and sat down.

"Pika-chu!"

He looked down at the small, yellow cat-like being as it jumped onto his lap. He pet his companion on the head and felt the familiar tingle of static that always seemed to generate from the little guy. He found out from Toshio, who was ecstatic when he heard that his friend had a real-live pokemon, that Pikachus generated electricity for some really cool lightning attacks.

He thought back to the first time he found BRVR outside his game.

* * *

***flashback***

BEN woke up groggily the morning of December 26th. He'd pretended to sleep when Slendy caught him the night before and as soon as he was sure the entity was also in bed, he got up and stayed up till 2 AM playing a new online game he got for Christmas earlier. Now, it was 7 AM and, naturally, he'd wake up and be unable to fall back asleep. He stumbled his way downstairs, surprised that not even Slendy was awake.

He passed the living room and backtracked when he saw the fritz of static on the screen. His brows furrowed as his sleep-addled brain put together enough to say "TV static. Loud. Bad. Button push. Off."

He shuffled his way into the room and slapped the region where he thought he remembered the button being. After several unsuccessful attempts of slapping the hard plastic around it, he finally felt a raised bump and the TV turned off. He sighed before turning around-

And blinked several times.

He must be more tired than he remembered, he was seeing things. What looked like either a real-live Pikachu or a very yellow cat was curled up on the couch, apparently asleep. He rubbed his eyes, but the image didn't go away, he cautiously stepped towards the thing on their couch.

His brain was currently an incoherent puddle of gray matter after a combination of almost non-stop gameplay and mild sleep deprivation. So, naturally, his first instinct was to poke it.

His finger barely prodded the red circle on its cheeks when the character's onyx eyes flew open, whizzing wildly around in its sockets before landing on the living virus. Immediately, it jumped backwards onto the armrest of the couch and eyed the mysterious child-that-was-not-new-brother-Harry.

"Woah, there! Easy-" The green-clad character put his hands up defensively.

"PI-" Arcs of electricity started sparking.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"-KAAAA-"

"Wait, don't you do that when- oh, shi-!"

"-CHUUUUUUUUUU!"

* * *

***still in flashback***

Harry woke up suddenly at a combination of sounds.

One was a high-pitched, prepubescent scream.

The other was the sonic boom of lightning.

The last was light bulbs all over the house flaring to life before exploding violently like popcorn.

He jumped out of bed and got to his door. He saw several others had already poked their heads out of the threshold and Slendy was already rushing down the hall still in his PJs. His new brother and sister figures were already tagging not far behind the faceless guardian.

They turned the corner and found the worst of the scorch marks in the threshold to the TV room. Inside was a stunned and slightly charred BEN twitching on the ground, a shorted-out TV and game box, and the smoldering remains of a couch.

"_What on earth-_!" Slendy roared, but was cut off as a bright, yellow creature hopped on the top of the charred couch, clearly threatened by the arrival of new people. Arcs of yellow electricity started sparking from its cheeks.

"PI-KAAA-!"

"BRVR!"

The electricity stopped immediately and the little cat-like creature's head snapped behind the faceless being where it centered on new-brother-Harry. The boy pushed his way past everyone and made it to the front, where the electric-type's face split into the feline grin from before. "Pika pi!"

The excited pokemon hopped off the couch and jumped in the young boy's arms, ignoring the crowd flinch to try to protect Harry. The wizard twitched a little as a small spark of static shocked his arms when he made contact with the creature, but smiled when BRVR settled against his chest.

The blood-covered creature calmed down and Harry looked behind him to see his new family staring and alternating between Harry and his apparent pet. Slendy was the first to speak. "_Harry, I assume you know who this is?_"

Harry nodded hesitantly. "His name is BRVR. Toshio said he's something called a "Pokemon" and is specifically a "Pikachu". It's apparently like a "dog" and a "terrier". One is generic, the other is a specific kind."

"_Yes, Harry, I understand that, but what is it doing here?_"

Harry frowned before turning to the pokemon in question. "I don't know. He was in my game last night."

"_Game? What game?_" Harry turned to the TV and pulled out the smoking remains of a video game cartridge from the equally charred remains of the GameCube. He winced and glanced at the currently unconscious form of BEN, not looking forward to explaining how his console was destroyed. He wordlessly handed it to Slendy who peered at it (from what they could tell) and read the singed paper sticker on it.

"_Pokemon Channel? I see, this was the game BEN gave you yesterday morning, wasn't it?_" Harry nodded. _"*sigh* There were rumors of a game or two that slipped under the radar in the Council. Who would guess that out of sheer dumb luck it would end up here? Though, the question remains, how did it get from a game to here?_"

Jeff spoke from behind them. "Well, I mean BEN over there is a video game character and he walks around. Isn't it just like that?"

"_No, not exactly_." Slenderman replied. "_BEN is a computer entity, yes, but he's essentially computer code wrapped around a human soul from when he was alive. This creature- this 'BRVR', is completely digitally-based. It has consciousness and awareness, but nothing to tether it to the physical world… unless…_"

He turned to Harry, who hugged the small creature closer to his chest. "_Harry, do you know anything about this? Anything at all, I won't punish you for it."_

Harry's eyes darted down before widening slightly with a memory. "I… I remember going to bed, after you put me in it… I remember feeling sad for BRVR and wishing I could help… I think I wished he was… real, too…" He whispered out at the end. He flinched at the contact on his shoulder, but instead of a rough grab or a slap for his "freakishness", it was comforting.

"_As I said, Harry. I won't punish you for this. In fact, I find it quite amazing._" Harry was so relieved, he let out a tiny chuckle. Looking back, he saw his new brothers and sisters clearly amazed as well, none of which seemed scared or angry for what he did.

He stood up and addressed everyone else. "_Now, given the fact that we found an object that's been reported as missing, I need to inform the Council of this, I'll be right back_."

"Wait!" He turned back to Harry, who retreated in on himself, shocked at his own outburst. He asked, much quieter, "What will happen to BRVR?"

Slenderman looked from the green eyes of his ward to the "pokemon" in his hands and back to the melted plastic of the game cartridge. "_Well, I suppose we can't exactly send him back into this._" He held up the cartridge. _"And I'm willing to bet that the council won't find a suitable place for him…_"

Harry looked up, with a hopeful expression. "May we keep him?" The demonic Pikachu joined the young boy's pleading eyes and matched it with a toothy grin.

Slenderman sighed.

* * *

***Flashback over***

And so, BRVR officially became his responsibility. He had a small doggy-bed in his room for the creature to sleep in (though it tended to wind up on top of the covers with him), an extra food and water bowl in the kitchen, even a litter box in the bathroom.

As it turned out, BRVR was pretty self-sustaining. They guessed because he was mostly a video-game character, he didn't really need to eat or drink much, though Harry found out his favorite snack consisted of raw ketchup, apple slices, or berries along with the occasional slab of raw meat from the chill box for carnivorous tenants. So far, Harry, and everyone, else was pleased to discover that BRVR never once seemed to need the litter box, nor did it leave "droppings" elsewhere like a the mouse it was supposedly based upon.

The first few weeks of BRVR's appearance in the house, Smile was pretty jealous of being upstaged as the pet-of-the-house. Jeff was up in arms for a week as BRVR's thundershock attacks kept "poofing" Smile's fur and leaving the demon-dog twitchy for hours afterwards and Harry was equally upset because Smile's claws caused some pretty nasty gashes to the ones that were already there. Eventually, the two pets came to a mutual understanding that both were pets of the house, but Smile was Jeff's and BRVR was Harry's. The house breathed a collective sigh of relief when the feud ended.

As his hand glided over the Pikachu's yellow fur, he saw that more of the scabs were starting to peel off. After about a month out of his game, BRVR's cuts and scabs started healing over and faded into the goldenrod fur, but the sharp teeth remained.

BRVR's long ears twitched with a sudden thought before hopping off of his lap and pointing at the clock, yammering in Pokémon. "Pika pi pi!" Harry looked up and saw it was almost 9:00 AM. He nodded and followed the excited creature down the stairs to the kitchen. Today was a generic day, so he fixed himself a bowl of cereal and milk and BRVR was content with some blackberries.

He looked outside. The constant overcast finally broke into a downpour. He guessed he should have expected it since it was currently mid-April, but it was still upsetting that everyone was either miles away from teleporting to jobs or stuck inside the manor. Slendy had already left on some business, so he fell in the latter.

The door to the basement opened and E.J. walked out, still looking over some documents with his lab coat on.

"Hello." Harry chirped. Jack looked up, suddenly aware of where he was and nodded to Harry and BRVR. He walked to the fridge and pulled out some leftover kidney before popping it in the microwave. He set the steaming organ on the table before cutting a corner with a fork, reviewing more of his notes.

Harry peered at the jumbled mess. "What are you reading?" He asked innocently, but his eyes belied his genuine interest. Since his first dissection (a frog), he'd begun to become more invested in the sciences and turned to E.J. for anatomy and medical science, Masky for chemistry, and L.J. for math and physics. Even if half of L.J.'s "assignments and experiments" were pranks in disguise.

Jack smiled at his curiosity. "I'm looking at BRVR's blood results. It's fascinating. He's got actual blood cells, plasma, tissue, etc. and it's genetically all his own even though he was just a computer program beforehand. That's the other thing. I ran a few more tests on those tissue samples he gave and his DNA is binary! It's a whole new system of genetics. I'm thinking about asking to test BEN, Funnymouth, Sonic. exe and a few others to see if they have it too or something similar."

Harry nodded excitedly. "What about those energy readings?"

Jack sighed and shook his head. "I can't. The chemical and DNA tests involve computers, but they're primarily chemical-based, so it doesn't affect it as much. All of my equipment for energy readings keeps failing from how strong the energy output is and I've got nothing that can counteract its affect."

Harry looked up thoughtfully. "But it's a wavelength, right?" E.J. nodded. "Well, Jack- the other Jack, that is- was telling me how waves can cancel out at the same frequency, but different points. He said it's a fun way to mess with people's heads. Someone walks briefly in one spot and in the next, the noise is gone. Something with Quantum Physics. He didn't explain too much, I wouldn't understand anyways."

Jack set down his papers and looked at Harry eye-to-socket. "Don't underestimate yourself, Harry. You're brighter than you let on. I mean, you understood enough that using that wavelength you could cancel or… reduce… the amplitude… I'll be right back!"

Harry watched, cereal and spoon mid-way to his mouth, as Jack grabbed his papers and ran back to the basement. Harry smiled at his foster-older-brother before picking up the plate of steaming body tissue and tossing it on a pan. A few chopped onions, leeks, and a bit of oil later and he made the re-heated organ into something more appetizing for the eyeless cannibal. BRVR wagged his lightning-bold-shaped tail and Harry tossed him a small bite, but took the rest of it downstairs.

E.J. was in front of a small, glass box with a glowing, green stone adjusting a knob while murmuring. Harry got closer and could make out what he was saying.

"Come on, come on, come on."

He stopped as he got the dial to a certain point and the devices hooked up around the green stone started whirring and beeping. The eyeless doctor excitedly leapt from one monitor to another before punching the air, "YES!"

Harry snickered. "So, it works?" E.J. turned around in surprise. "Harry! I didn't hear you come in."

"So I gathered. Here, a celebratory snack!" He lifted the plate with the steaming kidney on it. Jack sniffed it and wiped a tiny bit of black drool from the corner of his mouth. "Wow, that looks great! What did you make it with?"

The seven year old shrugged. "You left your kidney upstairs, so I just cooked it properly instead of chucking it in the microwave."

Jack smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry. I'll cook something with you later this week. I've just been so focused on my research lately I haven't had time to properly cook a meal. It's mostly been ramen, microwave meals, coffee, and take-out. It's like college finals week all over again. Except without dorm food as an option."

Harry looked up. "You went to college?"

The eyeless doctor paused midway writing down something on a clipboard before resuming. He finished his sentence and spoke. "Once upon a time, I guess. It was way back before… well, this." He gestured to his blue-black face, specifically his eyes. "It's not something I go on about. Not much I can do. Trust me, I've researched it."

The young wizard-to-be was silent as the eyeless doctor wrote down the last of what he had to, clicked the pen shut, and walked over to the meal Harry prepared. "Whoa! This is amazing." He exclaimed after trying it. "You gotta tell me the recipe for this!"

Harry smiled, glad the tension was gone. They hung around for a few minutes discussing some questions Harry had about anatomy as Jack put in some of his data into his computer. BRVR fell asleep under the warm air currents beneath one of the machine's exhaust heat vents. Harry roused the Pokémon, receiving a small shock from the grumpy-in-the-morning electric-type, and took E.J.'s plate back upstairs, leaving the scholar to keep working.

He and his companion got up the stairs and turned to the living room area. Harry did a quick double-take when he saw a pair of dirty, bare feet sticking up from behind a couch. He glanced at BRVR who met his with an equally confused glance. They both looked back and BRVR hopped over to a chair directly across from the figure. Harry followed.

Sally was currently staring at a blank wall with her feet up and her head on the ground, nightgown kept up by the Unknown Force phenomenon. She caught Harry's eyes and sighed dramatically before saying. "I'm booooorred."

Harry snickered. "Well, I just met with E.J. We were talking about the uses of the coronary artery in conjunction with-"

"Ah! No!" She put her hands over her ears. "I liked you better before you started speaking nerd all the time."

Harry grinned. "That isn't "nerd-speak", as you put it, this is:" He cleared his throat before making the most monotone, British narration voice he could. "'_The Complete Encyclopedia of Knowledge. Chapter 1: The Atom-_'"

"Augh!" She flopped back down in mock defeat. "E.J. has corrupted you! Don't infect me!"

Harry wiggled his fingers in her face, tongue lolling out and moaning, pretending to be a zombie. She waved her arms uselessly at him to try and ward him off, but both were laughing the entire time. Harry had opened up in the few months he'd been there, especially after Christmas. Everyone agreed that he was essentially like a surrogate little brother and he happily filled the roll when it seemed appropriate.

Sometimes, he'd revert back to his timid and unsure self, but for the most part, he was getting better.

A few minutes of playing "Zombie Contamination" later, Sally had enough and was back to lying upside-down on the couch with Harry following suit on one of the chairs. The undead girl looked longingly out the window. "Rain, rain, go away…"

Harry finished. "Come again when we're away."

"Oh, that's good, I'll have to remember that. We just have 'Come again another day', but yours is specific." Sally commented, still upside down. She gave another hearty sigh. "Whaddaya wanna do?"

Harry thought for a second. "Well, do you want to draw?"

"Nah."

"Play in the mud?"

"Slendy'd kill us."

"Play with BRVR?"

"Nah."

"Pika!"

"Sorry, but I'm just not in the mood."

"Pi."

"Play hide and seek?"

Sally's head snapped up. "Um. No… no… I, well-"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to or not?"

Sally stopped, looking torn before deciding. "Yeah, sure!"

"You're it!" Harry cried running away from Sally's protests. He stuck around and heard her start counting before he really started running off with BRVR hot on his heels.

They hadn't decided on boundaries, so he went upstairs, careful not to let his footsteps be too loud. He started peeking around for rooms on the upstairs. He thought about the upstairs bathroom, but thought it'd be awkward if someone else stuck in the house went in there, too. He mentally checked off the doorways he knew were people's rooms or spare rooms.

_Room. Room. Room. Spare Room, keep in mind. Bathroom. Slendy's room… Hm?_

He stopped in front of a single wooden door at the very end of a hallway. Just after Slendy's door, the hall turned a sharp right and continued, but there were no doors in it. There were three windows letting in faded sunlight, but otherwise, it was an empty hallway to a lone door.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

Sally's voice echoed up the stairs and Harry decided to risk it. He approached the door and found it unlocked. The doorway led to an old, wooden stairwell leading upwards. With a quick glance behind him, he quietly made his way up the creaky staircase to a dusty attic space.

He took in the room in an instant. There were many chests, but he'd heard about the Hide-and-Seek Bride story and wasn't keen to suffocate in one. The armoire looked promising, but it seemed a bit obvious.

He saw a small table-like object covered with a white dust tarp and from the legs, he saw that it was empty underneath. He quietly sprinted over and lifted the tarp, confirming that it was an old sewing machine table with a cast-iron foot pedal underneath. He brushed aside the cobwebs and ducked into the small space, returning the dust tarp to cover his hiding spot.

He looked around his enclosure. The other side of the sewing machine was also empty and covered with a dust tarp as well, so he'd have to watch that side as well.

He peeked out and saw BRVR scramble into a small hatbox before maneuvering the lid on top, followed by some quiet shuffling inside the box as the cat-like entity made itself comfortable.

He sat there for a good five or ten minutes before he heard the door at the bottom creak open and slow, determined footsteps started up the creaky stairs. He stifled an excited giggle and settled to a barely, held grin.

It was exciting playing this game. It was honestly thrilling to think that she could find him at any-

"_Where aaaare youuuuu._"

Harry's excited grin slipped into icy dread. Sally's voice was different. It was eerily sing-song and had a slight echo to it. He huddled quietly under the machine and leveled out his breathing.

"_I know you're iiiiin heeeere._"

He gulped. The room's ambient temperature dropped to where he saw a few gusts of breath. He clamped his lips between his teeth and slowly breathed the frigid air through his nostrils. From his vantage point, he could see her bare feet padding across the dusty wood.

"_I'll find you._"

He started sweating. He saw her feet move underneath an armoire and he shifted to keep an eye on her-

*creak!*

He froze. The small movement adjusted the old-fashioned pedal of the sewing machine, causing the metal to grate just briefly.

The pale feet paused, but continued on their way until they went behind a pile of trunks and crates. He peered over, careful about the pedal this time, but she was gone.

He hazarded a shaky breath before lowering his head to angle beneath the armoir. Nothing.

He perked his ears for the soft padding of Sally's bare feet. Nothing.

He could feel the air chill even further, the cast-iron supports for the machine grew a small film of frost and a mirror in the corner had intricate swirls edging inward towards the center-

Wait!

Just before the frost closed over the entire pane of glass, he managed to catch a glimpse of a flash of pink go past. Given the angle of the mirror, he tried to guess where she could-

"FOUND YOU!"

"AAUUUUGH!"

He scrambled backwards from under the space, looking back at the girl's playful eyes peering back at him. "Haha! 'Kay, now you need to look for me!" She proclaimed.

"PIKA PI!" The small, electric pokemon burst out of the hatbox at the sound of Harry's cry. Small arcs of yellow energy were already buzzing around its cheeks, but it calmed down when it saw Sally.

Sally gave it an awkward smile. "Hehe, thanks for not frying me, BRVR."

"Pika-chu."

She turned back to Harry. "So, Harry, are you ready to search for me yet?"

Harry chuckled weakly. "Y-yeah, sure thing, Sally. J-just let me catch my breath. Ha-haha."

"Yay! 'Cause that was fun!" She excitedly bounced around, arms in the air-

*crash!*

"Oops!" She pulled her arms against her chest and stared apologetically at the old, wooden box she'd tipped over. The cover came off the top and its contents were scattered on the floor around them. Harry bent over and quickly began picking up what he could with Sally not far behind.

"Ooh! Look at this!" He sat up from his crouch and crawled over to where the undead girl was, currently holding up a small bit of paper. "It's Slendy!"

He took the paper from her hand. It was some rough, yellowed paper with a clear, scratchy image of Slenderman. It had a sketchy-like quality to it, but It was still very accurately drawn. Around the faceless figure were words in a messier hand saying things like "NONONONONO" "HELPME" and "NO EYES". Harry sighed; it looked like someone got on Slendy's bad side.

"Look at this one!" She had another sketch. This one was much more defined and had a thin, almost skeletal, creature with some razor-like nails on its hands and two orb-like eyes. It was definitely an artistic depiction of The Rake.

Sally continued looking through the numerous artwork and written documents. Harry kept picking up a few bits of things. A mother-of-pearl comb, a small shard of mirror, a flower pressed into a piece of paper. All pretty random things to have in a box. BRVR was mostly content with the dried up, dead mouse inside, but he was decent enough to go behind some boxes to enjoy his late meal.

Curiosity got the better of Harry and he found himself eyeing a small trunk underneath more boxes. Sally looked up from the sketches and drawings to see his eyes wandering around the multitude of boxes around them.

She grinned slyly. "You wanna look through them?"

Harry started and waved his arms randomly. "Nonono. Slendy probably has a rule against it or something. I don't want to be caught or get you in trouble. But, I- sorry, um. I'm not sure, but-"

Sally rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on! It'll be fun!" She happily grabbed a chest from the top of the stack and plopped it down next to him. The young Brit eyed it warily.

"We really shouldn't-"

"Oh, stop it! You want to know what's in them as much as I do!" She pushed it further towards him and gestured towards the latch. "Well, go on. Aren't you curious too? Or do I have to open it?"

Harry's conscious was torn. On one hand, there was probably nothing in them that was that bad. On the other hand, Slendy might be upset. Though, if Slendy really didn't want anyone just walking in, he'd have put a lock on the door…

After all, what harm is a bunch of old stuff?

_Famous last words._ A tiny cynical Harry muttered inside his head. _I mean, there's the 'Goonies' for starters, and then 90% of the entire Horror movie franchise has a character finding old stuff in an attic, laboratory, basement, school, etc. Plus, you _live_ with people and things straight from those Horror movies. You really want to bet those odds?_

_Oh, shut up. If he wants to explore, let him._

_Oi, sod off, you! No one was talking to you!_

_Both of you stop it, now! This is getting us nowhere and you're terrifying Harry_.

Harry briefly (and nervously) wondered if schizophrenia could be acquired from exposure to others who probably had it, but shook it off as a one-time thing… he hoped.

He lifted the latch to the small trunk Sally gave him and lifted the lid. He was surprised to see a vast array of scalpels, bottles, knives, and an ornate, glass syringe. He took it out and looked closer at the old shot.

It wasn't too old. He saw one from E.J.'s personal collection of medical stuff that was metal with a needle the width of a small twig. This one was glass with a long, thin needle about an inch and a half long, two small, chrome circles at the top for fingers and one more chrome loop on the end of the plunger. The vial itself was completely empty and remarkably clean. The tip was protected with a small cork on its end. He popped it off and fiddled with the plunger going up and down.

"Woah, cool." Sally exclaimed leaning over to look in. "It's like an old-timey first aid kit." She pulled out a bottle. "What's 'Lau-dau-da-num'?"

Harry pieced it together and plucked it from her hands. "It's called Laudanum. It's a weak solution of opium, a drug that's really bad for your body… well…"

Sally giggled. "No body, yeah." He smiled in return and set the bottle of narcotics in its original slot.

"They used to do completely mental stuff back then, did you know? Like that Laudanum was used everywhere, for coughing, for sneezing, for calming down kids. Can you believe it? They'd give opium to three-year-olds to stop them from crying! E.J. told me about it once."

Sally looked thoughtful. "Well, I died back in the early 90s, so I didn't go through all that weird stuff you talked about. Maybe Kida did?"

Harry nodded. "Probably. But even when you were alive, there were tons of crazy toys on the market. I remember Jack telling me about a radioactivity kit for kids that had _a real uranium sample_ in it! And pretty much everything had lead paint back then, too."

Sally shuddered. "Great, now I'm worried about the Tickle-Me-Elmo I had when I was alive."

Harry nodded and went back to the doctor's kit. For fun, he looked through the various bottles of fluids. There were a couple more bottles of Laudanum with morphine and several he couldn't name.

"Ooh."

He looked over to Sally, who had opened a large, train trunk and pulled out a few ornate hats with flowers and veils attached. Among the mess of cloth, hats, and dresses were a few odd ends. A string of pearls that looked real, a hand mirror with a large crack down the middle, and a bunch of eerie, blank masks like Tim's, but without eyebrows or the painted lips.

Sally tried on a few of the more flowery and pink hats along with the pearls and looked at herself in the (thawed and defrosted) full-body mirror in the corner.

They continued searching for the next hour or so, listening to the rain steadily beating against the rooftop right above them. Under a dust tarp was an ornate, red velvet chair with a simple, walnut wood box on the seat. Inside they found a set of seven or so shiny straight razors, all with the initials S.T. carved into each.

Right beside the chair was a small, feminine trunk with a bouquet of ancient, dried flowers and a book. The flower withered to dust when Harry tried touching one, but the books remained intact. Inside was a curious recipe for meat pies. Harry knew meat pies would be delicious with these ingredients, but the recipe just said "20 oz. of meat" and never specified what kind of meat the author/cook, Nellie Luvett, had in mind. He memorized the recipe, though, to try it out later (which he would find out later BRVR was exceptionally grateful for, upon discovering a new favorite treat: Beef, Veggie, and Random-Meat-Slab-of-Questionable-Origin pie).

An ornate, bamboo box held a long, shiny katana. Sally kept calling it a "sword" despite Harry correcting her each time. Harry took it out carefully, still with the tip in the sheath and they examined it cautiously, Sally "ooh"ing as it caught the light and reflected like a mirror.

They kept looking through a few more objects hidden under dust covers. A tall wardrobe cabinet with an image of a lion, an apple tree, and a tall woman in a crown. They didn't go in, but Sally kept insisting she felt a cold breeze from inside. A thin object in a tarp turned out to be a portrait of a beautiful woman in her bridal outfit next to a man in a strict-looking suit, but with his head missing from the painting. Harry brushed off the rusty axe lying up against the portrait as probably irrelevant.

Eventually, they stopped, their curiosity satisfied, and put the dust tarps back over their respective objects and shut any boxes or chests left. Harry kept the doctor's supplies box and he even found a nifty Victorian, black, leather bag for it all as well. He ran off to drop them off in his room.

When he got back up there, Sally was sitting on an old table, swinging her legs back and forth underneath the tabletop. She grinned at Harry. "That was fun! Do you want to do anything else?"

Harry shrugged before sitting on an old crate. Sally "hmm"ed in thought before snapping her fingers with an idea. "The exploring was pretty fun. Do you wanna keep going?" Harry raised an eyebrow to cue her to elaborate. "I mean, do you want to explore some more of the house?"

"But we've already seen everything. This attic was the only thing I found that I hadn't seen before."

Sally sighed before smiling mischievously, "Well, everyone else is somewhere else today…"

Harry frowned as she trailed off. "Yeah."

"And the house is mostly empty, save for Jack who's in his basement…"

"Go on."

"And their rooms are _empty_…"

Harry's eyes widened as he caught on. "Oh, no. No no no, absolutely, positively not. The attic is one thing, but going through everyone else's rooms is an entirely different matter."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, we're not going to get caught, and even then, we're not going to break anything or steal anything, we're just looking. It'll be fun! Like a _g-game_." Harry noticed the slight twitch at the end, but pointedly looked away as though he didn't.

"W-well…" Harry began. Unsure exactly where to go with this. It seemed like an invasion of privacy, but at the same time, he was essentially like their little brother. Didn't brothers usually go into their siblings' rooms? He'd never had anyone like it and Dudley would have a fit if he went in his room, so he didn't really have an idea what was okay and what was too far.

He looked back at Sally, who was staring at him with expectant eyes. He swore they got bigger and more pleading as he stared into them. Naturally, BRVR had immaculate timing and popped up from behind a box with the same questioning look in his eyes.

Harry sighed.

* * *

"Harry, hurry!" Sally whispered.

Harry grimly glanced through the archway into Eyeless Jack's lab. The young doctor was busy reading through a list of readouts on a screen and adjusting knobs to certain conditions before going back to a microscope or computer monitor. He had ear buds in connected to a small iPod, so he didn't notice the whispering behind him.

He quietly rushed past to the undead girl's position. She had gotten excited and decided that they should try the room of the person still home. Harry protested, but she convinced him it would be alright. After all, E.J. was pretty okay with a lot of things.

Though Harry still didn't want to get on his bad side-

"In here!" His train of thought was broken by Sally's excited whisper. She'd stopped in front of a plain, wooden door in the hallway. She already opened it partially and was motioning with her hands for him to hurry in. He quietly scampered across the hall and into the room. They fumbled on the wall nearby until Harry felt and flipped the light switch.

Harry was pretty surprised. He thought E.J. would need more space like the rest of them, but his room was actually relatively small. It had a bed with a blue and black diamond pattern comforter, a generic wood dresser and a plain desk with an old desktop computer on it and some shelves above. The shelves were mostly empty save for a few jars of organs floating in green solution.

The light came from a single, dangling naked bulb on the ceiling. The walls were a deep blue and had a few anatomical diagrams or posters of atoms or biological processes like digestion or DNA replication.

Sally ran over to the computer and started it up. "Oh, I never knew E.J. had a computer before. BEN doesn't share his a lot, I guess that makes sense since it's kinda like his bed, but- you know- the games are fun. I wonder what Jack does here."

Before Harry could protest, she pushed a button and the computer opened to a plain desktop with a loud "ping". Sally let the mouse laze around, clicking the file titles. "Wow! I never knew E.J. was such a gamer, too! Look, _Amnesia, Cry of Fear, Silent House_\- Oh, I remember _Silent House_, I played it with my older cousins when I was alive!"

She booted up the game and the room was filled with the old, static-filled music as the survival horror game opened the main menu. Soon, Sally was engrossed in the game and Harry stopped watching to keep looking around. BRVR hopped on E.J.'s bed and began exploring the soft spots of the mattress and comforter. He let his eyes wander, before he saw something interesting.

There was one shelf above the bed that stood out.

He carefully stood on top of the bed, avoiding BRVR, to better see it.

On the wall directly above the shelf was a triangular flag with some school colors and initials, though Harry didn't recognize the American colleges, so he couldn't say which it was. His focus was drawn to the shelf itself. On it was a plain, blue mask that looked like the one E.J. used currently, but this one still had the tear-like black stains running down from the eye sockets whereas E.J.'s current masks seemed to absorb the black fluid as it just disappeared whenever he'd take it off only for it to reappear on his face, instead.

The shelf also bore a small picture in a frame. It was crinkled on the edges, but the glass protection kept any more damage from coming to light. Harry reached over and took it off to get a better look in the light. It was a casual shot focusing on two figures in the foreground on a manicured lawn in front of an old, masonry building. A sign in the background informed him that it was a lecture hall or class hall.

The two figures were stark contrasts of each other. One was a rambunctious black-haired guy with a goofy grin in a flannel shirt with a beer bottle in one hand and the other arm around another pale figure, who calmly smiled at the camera with his hands in his hoodie pockets.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. The calm, pale figure had a familiar poof of messy, brown hair and black hoodie. The main things that his eyes gravitated to were the clear, cobalt-blue eyes staring back.

Though, Harry's attention was drawn to a girl in the background who was eyeing Jack with a clear expression of interest. It probably could've been interpreted as she had a crush on him, if there wasn't an air of hunger and… reverence to it. Either way, her face was distorted in the picture by multiple scratches marring the image underneath the glass.

Finally, the main object of curiosity was a small jar of cloudy, white preservative fluids. It stood innocently in the corner, collecting dust, but obviously treated well.

He carefully set the photo back in its rightful place and pulled down the glass vessel. The liquid was too cloudy to make out anything, but he could see something in it. He held it up to the light and could confirm there was something solid inside, but the blur kept it from being seen correctly.

He angled the jar and watched as the shapes slowly floated upwards through the old preservative. The milky preservative cleared away to reveal-

A flash of blue.

"Harry!"

He quickly put the jar back exactly as he found it and rushed over to Sally, still obliviously playing her game. Harry saw her blast through a few Hellhounds and zombies before getting to the main boss at the end. "I'm almost at the end!" She cried.

She changed out her guns for some new ones and got to the plant-like final boss of the level. Harry watched her blast the glowing targets, but was killed by a surprising acid attack from a flower in its center.

Sally slumped in defeat in front of the red 'Game Over' sign. "No! I always forget that it does that attack when it has 1/3 health." She stared sadly at the image before exiting the window entirely. "Well, let's move on." She sighed.

Harry followed after.

As they walked out, neither noticed the cobalt-blue iris swiveling in its solution and focusing on them before the milky suspension covered it over once more.

* * *

"Okay, follow me and don't touch anything!" Sally whispered. She pushed open the optical illusion door and walked into the colorful explosion of Laughing Jack's room.

It hadn't changed much since Harry visited his first day in the Mansion. The room's walls were still their usual black and white striped chaos, but they had splatters of paint all over from an experiment that went awry with his chemistry set. The black-and-white zig-zag bedspread was almost hidden under a pile of rubber chickens, whoopee cushions, and laxative pills… suddenly, he got the feeling that Jeff's "Week of Misery" wasn't from E.J.'s chicken being undercooked.

Sally started rummaging through the closet. "Hey, Harry, I'm going in! It's really deep in here, but I'll stay close! Woah! Never mind, I'll use the monorail!"

Harry blinked confusedly at the echoey voice from the closet and heard the "woosh" of a said transportation system emanating shortly afterwards. He guessed being an inter-dimensional entity had its perks in terms of managing storage space.

He walked around the room awkwardly. The monochrome clown's chemistry workspace was pretty empty today. The beakers and tubes were cleaned and drying on their racks, but the papers were still littered about. Each had detailed molecular diagrams of stink bombs, paints, goo, and other inventions along with their formulas and how to make them.

His eyes wandered over the spare black, feather circlets and balloon animals to the kaleidoscope of black and white patterns on L.J.'s walls, comforters, posters, even the dresser was an obnoxious barrage of black and white individual panels. BRVR was staring at a particularly complicated black-and-white optical illusion and fell backwards in a daze. Harry guessed if he was still in his game, he'd have had comical swirls for eyes by now.

His own eyes came to rest on the one, single thing in the room that was, by all definitions, "normal".

A single, wooden shelf high up that wasn't a bizarre monochrome pattern but a typical oak brown. On it sat a once-colorful jack-in-the-box toy.

Checking around, he stepped on top of the dresser and carefully pulled the box down before returning to the ground. Looking the children's toy over, it was a simple wooden box with simple swirl carvings on the edges of each face. It was clearly painted in vibrant colors at one point, but time and wear caused the paint to chip and fade almost to a depressing shade of gray.

Each side had a different image from a circus theme. A red and white Big-Top. A tiger in a cage. A trapeze act. A merry-go-round. On the lid, in faded paint, were the words in big, red, carnival font:

"Laughing Jack in the Box".

He cautiously shook the box, hearing something odd inside. He turned the crank, listening to the metallic, twang of the music box playing the standard, though slightly off-tune, "Pop Goes The Weasel". Just before the famous last five notes, the latch popped and the lid opened. Harry was mildly disappointed when the lid merely popped open partially without a spring-loaded clown doll on the end.

He looked inside the small box and saw, instead, several odd objects. A blue marble; a few small, red candies in their red, transparent wrappers; and a few bundles of paper.

He pulled out the yellowed, crinkly papers and carefully opened each. One was a scratchy treasure map of an imaginary island. Another was a crude charcoal and paint image of a blonde boy holding hands with what was obviously Laughing Jack… after his chemistry paint set exploded on him.

The clown depicted had the exact same striped sleeves, conical nose, and messy hair as he did now. Even down to the weird feather-boa-thing he wore around his neck. But, the stripes were a rainbow of vibrant colors, as were the feathers and his nose looked like a colorful candy stuck to his face. Even his hair was a cheerful, cherry red. Not a hint of black or a smidge of white on the guy.

What was more, he was clearly smiling.

Not his malicious "L.J. Smile" (Patent Pending), but an honest smile that suggested good humor and fun.

He flipped to another paper. The same, colorful clown was next to a boy banging on a pot with a spoon while the colorful Laughing Jack played what looked like a green, yellow, and pink accordion. Another had the two obviously wearing pirate hats and standing on top of a chest full of gold coins and jewels. Even more had the two as lion tamers, jungle explorers, sailors, soldiers, even one with the boy dressed as a clown himself with the older entertainer juggling colorful balls.

Another showed the two with the clown making a surprised "O" with his mouth and reaching out for a blue dot the boy looked to be giving him. An arrow drawn to the blue spot said "Lukee Marbel" in childish, blocky letters.

The next two were unnerving. One had an image of the boy crying in front of a large, angry man who was clearly shouting at him and the clown was frowning behind a door that was likely a closet or cupboard. The last one was one with the boy crying again, but the man was walking away with the colorful jack-in-the-box and Laughing Jack was nowhere to be seen.

"*ping-pong* _Now arriving at: Main Entrance._"

Harry started at the cool, female voice from the closet doors and quickly folded the papers back as he found them while putting the box back. He stepped down as he heard the whoosh and screech of a monorail stopping.

"*ping* _Please exit the monorail safely and watch your step. Thank you._"

Sally soon popped out of the closet and rushed over to Harry. "Harry! Harryharryharry! You'll never guess what! L.J. has an entire carnival dedicated to shoes! Did you find anything, too?"

"No, nothing." Harry lied.

"Well, let's go on, then!" She exclaimed excited at the possibilities of exploration.

Harry felt himself being dragged again out of the room and ran to keep up with a newly-revived BRVR trailing along behind them. They nudged the door closed on the way out.

None of them heard the toy on the shelf mournfully plinking the last five notes to its song.

_Pop. Goes. The. Wea-sel._

* * *

Harry and Sally walked carefully into the plain room. They took off their shoes and Sally ran to her room to put on proper socks so her dirt-covered footprints wouldn't mess into the carpet.

"Okay, we are in enemy territory. Mistakes here cost lives." Sally whispered. "Namely, ours." Harry nodded in understanding before walking around the most dreaded location in the mansion.

Slenderman's room.

The bed was immaculately tucked and the carpet was perfectly aligned with the room as well as stainless, dirtless, pretty-much-anything-less-since-it-was-bought/made. The walls were a plain, cream color with a simple, framed drawing of a simple flower and a single window on the opposite wall.

BRVR didn't dare hop on the bed for fear of leaving an indent, so he was content to just keep around Harry's ankles as they walked around.

They treaded carefully on the carpet, making sure not to leave footprints or indentations as they crept around. Sally opened the closet and saw row upon row of black suits with matching black ties and white undershirts.

She grimaced. "We need to have Trendy talk to Slendy about this. One suit is nice, but this many and _all_ the same is just kinda boring."

Harry shrugged. "Well, I guess if he likes it-"

"Yeah, yeah." Sally waved him off. "But what's the point of getting dressed if you can't wear something different from time to time?"

They crept around the room, peeking in a few drawers if they dared. Nothing but socks, cufflinks, and ties.

"Harry, look!" Sally was transfixed looking in one of the dresser drawers. She reached in and almost reverently pulled out-

A red bowtie.

"Slendy has a bowtie! What a nerd!" She exclaimed.

"Oi, what's wrong with bowties? Bowties are cool." Harry proclaimed.

She gave him a deadpan stare. "Really? Bowties, the epitome of nerd-dome, is 'cool'?"

Harry stuck out his chest and proclaimed. "I predict that one day, millions of people and fellow British citizens ("you're not in the UK anymore, Harry") will agree that bowties are cool!"

The undead girl sighed. "What else is cool, that weird red hat they wear in secret societies?" She walked out, leaving a grumbling Harry behind.

"It's called a fez and it could totally happen." He muttered.

* * *

The next room Harry was almost tempted to run off and grab his gasmask for.

Jeff's room hadn't improved in the months he'd been here. Apparently, the day he first stepped in his room was a "good" day, where he'd cleaned the day before! That messy in less than 24 hours!

Either way, the room hadn't gotten better. The pizza boxes had been left to mold and an enormous pile of black undershirts, jeans, socks, and underwear had been erected in the corner of his room. Smile's winter coat was starting to shed, so it mingled with the smell of dog hair.

Harry could've sworn he saw a mutated, pizza-shaped… _thing_ with weird, hairy insect legs scuttle under a pile of smelly garbage.

He looked over to Sally and saw she was equally green-tinged. "Slendy can smell, you know." She mentioned, half-gagging. "But I think he can turn it on and off. Lucky him."

Harry shuddered. "How can Jeff even stand the place?"

"He got the perk of having his sense of smell burnt away in the accident, remember? He can't smell anything anymore… I think. That, or boys are naturally nose-dead." Harry pulled a face, but couldn't refute. He just really, really, _really_ wished the smell was gone.

*swoosh*

Their hair was ruffled by a small breeze and Harry felt the tiny stirring of energy from meditation again. He cautiously put his hands down and took the tiniest sniff, like a chemist when testing for particularly volatile/nauseating/toxic chemical fumes.

"I-it's clean." He said, amazed.

Sally kept her hands clamped on her nose. "What are you talking about, it's still a dump."

"The room! It doesn't smell anymore- well," He paused and sniffed again. The smell was slowly, but steadily growing back. "it doesn't smell as bad, but we can breathe!"

Sally cautiously repeated Harry's sniff-test before turning to him and hugging him. "Have I ever mentioned how much I love that weird stuff you do?"

Harry faltered. "W-weird?"

"In the good way." Sally assured him. Harry relaxed and returned the hug before they set out exploring.

They weren't as thorough as the others' rooms. Primarily because to do so, they had to _touch_ things… moreover, they had to touch _Jeff's_ things. Neither Sally nor Harry were willing to undergo a chemical bath after this, so they refrained from opening drawers and settled for peeking around. BRVR didn't have the same restrictions and happily gave chase to a tiny mouse by diving into a large pile of dirty laundry.

Harry grimaced and made a mental note to give BRVR a deep cleaning bath… and flea bath… and injections… probably some HAZMAT clearance stuff from E.J., too…

He wandered around in thought as Sally continued looking around, examining drawers and shuddering at the new variety of fungi being cultivated in his closet and beneath his bed.

Harry, himself, was drawn to one spot though. The single dresser top that didn't have a single slice of pizza dangling off of it, or dog hair, or even a leftover sock.

It was completely devoid of anything save for a small, framed picture and a settled layer of dust.

The glass on the frame was obscured by the film, so Harry carefully blew on it, causing a large dust cloud to billow off the surface in front of him. He made a fist and wiped the heel of his hand across the rest of the image to remove more dust.

Underneath was a simple family portrait.

A brown-haired woman in a blue dress smiled happily at the camera, her blue eyes prominent against her pale face. A man with blond hair was smiling confidently in a flannel shirt. There were two figures in front.

One was a kid around 11 or 12 with light brown hair and his father's green eyes. He was smiling widely at the camera with an arm around his brother.

The brother was around 13 or 14. He looked almost exactly like his brother in terms of facial structure, but his hair color was a darker brown, more like his mother's, and his eyes were also her shade of crystal blue.

Harry started. The blue eyes, the mousy brown hair, the white hoodie. This was obviously-

"Jeff!"

Harry whirled around, with the picture still in his arms, at Sally's exclamation. Jeff was in the entryway, scowling despite his perpetual grin.

"Sally." He growled. His bloodshot eyes turned to the other kid in the room.

"Har-"

He stopped mid-sentence and fixated upon the picture frame in the small boy's hands.

"We're sorry, Jeff." Sally pled, upset. "We didn't upset anything, we were just bored. Even then, I was the one who made him go."

"…You…"

Harry sweated bullets as he realized Jeff hadn't moved an inch, hadn't given any indication he heard Sally-

And hadn't looked away from him.

"You."

Harry backed away slowly until he bumped right against the dresser. The picture in his hands was shaking… no, that was him.

"YOU!"

Harry ducked at the glint of metal and barely dodged a knife blade that had been centimeters from his shoulder. Sally screamed and rushed over, but Jeff ignored her and focused on Harry.

"YOU TOUCHED MY PICTURE!" He roared. Harry ducked as another sharpened knife grazed his ear.

"Jeff! No, please stop!" Sally shouted, flailing her arms uselessly against his back. He didn't even wince and kept steadily stalking towards Harry with his infamous kitchen knife in his hand.

Jeff's breathing was heavy and ragged. His eyes were bloodshot to the point of being completely red. They didn't have the same sullenness that Jeff usually skulked around with, but were raging and animalistic.

He opened his mouth and it split along the perpetual smile, making his entire face seem split down the middle. Saliva and blood dribbled from between the severed flaps of skin. He let loose an incoherent cry before steadily walking closer.

_He doesn't recognize me!_ Harry realized in terror.

BRVR popped out of a pile of clothes and saw his master in severe danger by someone-not-brother-Harry. He prepped himself. "PI-KAAA-CHUUUUUU!"

He sent electricity arcing across the room, straight through the white-faced threat, who was distracted for just one second. Harry took that distraction and he ducked between the teen's legs and scrambled to get up before running down the hallway.

Jeff growled angrily at the escaping vandal and when BRVR tried to tackle the larger opponent, Jeff met him mid-air and swatted him to the side, unfortunately causing the pokemon's head to make contact with a desk and having it to slump to the floor, unconscious.

Jeff continued to storm outside into the Hallway, but had eyes only on Harry. Sally frantically shouted after him.

"Jeff! Stop!" Sally cried desperately. She turned around towards the stairwell before calling back. "I'll be back with help, Harry! Be careful!"

Harry stumbled away from Jeff, who barreled down the hall in a fit. Hanging picture frames crashed to the ground as he slammed into the wall. Harry kept running down the hallway away from his enraged foster-brother.

"Jeff, don't please! It's me, Harry! I'm sorry! I'll never touch the picture again! I'm sorry!" He wailed behind him. It fell on deaf ears because Jeff just kept coming towards him. Harry turned a corner in the corridor and-

Dead end.

Harry's heart leapt to his throat. He really hated how they called it that. He slowly turned around to see Jeff, panting at the corner. His blade glinted against the sconces.

_This is it._ Harry thought.

In his time here in the Mansion, he'd never felt afraid. Yeah, sometimes he'd be creeped out by the tenants like Rake or Widemouth, but he knew they wouldn't hurt him. He felt safe. Even when he'd run into Seedeater while getting a drink of water in the middle of the night, he wasn't afraid.

Now, he was afraid.

Jeff walked closer and closer before lunging forward and pinning Harry's shoulder against a wall with his left hand and holding the knife in his right.

"J-Jeff." Harry sobbed. "P-p-please."

The psychopath's rugged breathing managed to force out something.

"GO-"

Harry cowered as he slowly raised the knife.

"TO-"

The knife shone maliciously.

"SLEE- urk!"

Harry looked and saw a small, red feather appear on Jeff's neck. Through his terror-induced mind, he thought '_Jeff's turning into a cardinal?_" Before realizing the small, metallic glint at the end belonged to the dart embedded in his vein.

Jeff's hand reached up and grabbed the dart, examining it carefully. His head started bobbing and Harry was sure if he had eyelids they'd be getting heavier. The knife-wielding maniac looked back at Harry and Harry saw the familiar sheen of "Jeff Woods" staring back sadly before they rolled upwards and he collapsed to the side.

Harry looked back and saw Eyeless Jack, still in his lab coat, with an air rifle at his side. Cowering behind him was Sally. Harry breathed out in relief before slumping in a boneless heap.

E.J. rushed over and confirmed Harry was awake and unhurt before helping him up and carrying Jeff's unconscious body army-style over his shoulder. They made their way to the living room where Harry and Sally sat down in the armchairs as Jack put Jeff down on a couch. Harry saw him walking towards the foyer and seem to speak to someone before he returned and sat down, waiting.

Not long after, the front door opened and a familiar, faceless entity walked in. He looked at Harry, then Jeff, and sighed sadly.

"_Harry, I believe we need another talk._"

* * *

He felt himself being pulled from the inky oblivion into-

Another inky oblivion.

He winced as pain coursed through his head and groaned softly.

"Jeff?"

He winced more at the noise. The voice seemed to accommodate and spoke softer. "Jeff?"

Jeff slowly reached up and felt around his eyes, coming into contact with the familiar cloth of a nightmask. He pulled it off and his unblinking eyes were blinded by the sudden light and unfocused shapes.

He put his arm over them to shield it and slowly removed it as the light became tolerable and things started coming back into focus.

The first thing he saw was the blury, blackish-blue figure of Eyeless Jack reading a book next to him. He saw he was on one of the beds in the Infirmary by E.J.'s labs. A couple more beds were around along with some medications and a few chairs, one of which the eyeless doctor occupied.

The empty sockets tilted towards him and E.J. shut the book and walked over.

"Hey, Jeff." He half-whispered. "How do you feel?"

Jeff groaned and sat up, swaying slightly. "Ugh. Like I was hit by a truck. Did I get drunk again?"

E.J. chuckled at the memory of Jeff adjusting his glamour and scoring some beer and the resulting antics along with the memory of his blazing hangover the next morning. "No, but that tranq stuff is pretty strong, I'll give you that. But I don't recommend taking a hair of the dog. You just woke up."

Jeff put up a hand, holding the other to his nose to stave off a brewing headache. "Wait, wait, wait… just… wait… so, you hit me with a tranq? Why the f*ck would you do that? Last I remember-"

He paused and his lidless eyes widened. "Oh no."

"Oh, yeah." Jack supplied.

Jeff fell back into the bed with his face buried in his hands, muttering. "Oh, no no no no no. Shit Shit Shit! F*ck!" He sat up suddenly. "Did I- you know?" He mimicked a stabbing motion to his chest.

Jack shook his head. "Thankfully, no, he didn't get a scratch on him. BRVR got knocked out, but he's alright. Still, Harry's pretty shaken up about it. Slendy's explaining it to him now."

Jeff flopped back on the bed. "Ugh. God, I feel awful."

E.J. hummed. "Funny, I thought clinical psychopaths didn't feel remorse."

The self-proclaimed psychopath sent back a glare that said, clearly, '_Not the time_.' The eyeless doctor shrugged and pulled out a chart, stethoscope, and some other bits of equipment. "Well, he was bound to see a Rage at some point in time or another. Might as well have been now, and with you, imagine if he saw Rake or Seedeater Rage. I'm not sure we could get there on time, even then, I doubt one dart would bring them down. Now, lie still and roll up your sleeve."

He started taking blood pressure and his usual "breathe-in-breathe-out" with the cold stethoscope check-ups while Jeff sighed angrily with himself.

He turned to E.J. mid-way through testing reflexes. "Does he hate me?"

E.J. paused in the scratching of his pen before replying. "I can't say for certain, but Harry's not one to hold a grudge. Plus," He grinned. "He'd understand, I'm sure."

* * *

"I don't understand!" Harry wailed.

He paced the room anxiously as Slenderman calmly walked over to sit on Harry's bed. "I know Sally and I went into his room. I admit we shouldn't have done that, but why did he want to kill me?"

He stopped pacing and turned around at Slendy, his voice cracking on the verge of tears. "D-does he hate me?"

Slendy sighed and motioned for Harry to sit down on the bed next to him. Harry complied and let his feet dangle and thump against the mattress in thought.

"_Harry, I guarantee Jeff does not hate you-_"

"But he was so angry and you weren't there-"

"_On the contrary, I was there for the first time he was in such a state_." Harry was silenced and slowly took the spot Slendy offered. After a moment, the entity continued (**AN: Brace self for more headcanon**). "_Jeff was once human, just like many others here. However, he had previously undiagnosed psychological symptoms which were aggravated after the incident that marred his appearance. After all, one doesn't just 'snap' most of the time. There's usually an underlying cause for the event._

"_Anyway, shortly after the incident, Jeffery's mind entered a state of confusion and irrational behavior. It was in this state that he removed his eyelids and… well, carved out his smile._" Harry grimaced. "_His mother unfortunately walked in on him during this state and his confusion turned to anger which quickly dissolved into what we classify as a Rage state."_

"_For us, there is something we call 'Rage' with a capital 'R'. During this period of time, all notions of humanity or pain or rationality give way to an immense, uncontrollable anger that results in damage and death of innocents._

"_Tobias actually entered a Rage partially by my doing, but certain events acted as the catalyst to his own episode during which he murdered his father and set a nearby forest preserve and a good portion of his neighborhood on fire. I was lucky to catch him early on."_

Harry looked troubled. "But what about Jeff?"

"_Jeffery… well… upon being discovered by his mother, he took the kitchen knife he'd used to mutilate himself and… he killed both his parents. Shortly thereafter, he murdered his younger brother._"

Harry gasped, imagining the family in the picture bloody and stabbed.

"_During a Rage, they are not aware of any connections they have with people. He may have recognized them vaguely or he may not, but either way, his mind interpreted them as the immediate source of distress and he took action. _

"_Jeff actually escaped and it took almost 4 months before we found him. During that time, he'd killed over 65 random civilians. It took a couple months in rehabilitation and near-isolation before he'd calmed down from the initial episode and even longer before he'd stop spontaneously returning to his Rage state."_

He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "_He's gotten to the point where Rages are few and far-between, but in moments of extreme anger, extreme adrenaline, or a trigger to the past, or likely a combination will cause him to revert… actually, something like that may cause any of us to revert."_

"Us?" Harry asked suddenly.

"_All of the tenants have a Rage state, we're not sure why some humans, such as Jeffery, Tobias, or even Tim and Brian, have one while others do not, but generally all non-human tenants will have a Rage state. Most, if not all, have it under control except with extreme provocation. "_

"Prov-ocat-ion?" Harry asked.

"_It means to force someone to react to something they're doing. Usually with the result of them becoming annoyed or angered. It can also be something that 'sets them off' so to speak._"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Earlier today… I was playing with Sally. Hide and Seek." Slenderman shifted to attention. "She started acting… weird. Scary. Was that Rage?"

"_Yes. Her Rage is just as dangerous as Jeff's, but slower and more persistent. Hide and Seek was a popular game she'd play with her victims before we managed to find her. Playing it for a while tends to bring her back to that state, though she has more control and it is far less potent than her hate-fueled Rage."_

"So, prov-o-cation can be anything, really. Like when I picked up Jeff's picture."

Slenderman sighed. "_Yes, that would do it. He is very protective of that. He managed to steal it from his old house once he'd calmed down. It's likely the link to his past coupled with anger at finding you in his personal space triggered the Rage._"

Harry was silent for a while before tentatively asking, "You said… all of the tenants have this Rage state."

"_That's right._"

"D-do you have one?"

Slenderman nodded solemnly. "_I have it well under control and hope you never need to see it_."

"… Do I have one?"

If he had eyes, Slenderman would've blinked in surprised. He'd honestly never considered it with their new ward. "_I can't say for certain. Statistically, you're most likely not. A Rage happens to very few normal humans… but I suppose time will tell._"

Harry was comforted by that. Most likely he didn't have to worry, but he still shuddered at the thought of being in that kind of state of mind. Not remembering anyone or anything. Being unable to control yourself. Then, when you finally get out of it, seeing everyone you knew and loved or even complete strangers dead in front of you.

It terrified him.

"… Is Jeff awake?" Harry asked.

"_I believe so, yes. Usually the tranquilizer wears off by now._" Harry nodded and jumped off the bed. Slenderman watched Harry walk directly to the basement and followed behind.

Harry opened the door to the infirmary, where Jeff was in the bed with E.J. shining a light at his eyes. They both looked back at the door's "click" when it opened. E.J. set down his pen and clipboard on the desk and stood back.

The black-haired ward walked to the black-haired-ward-in-bed and looked him straight in the eyes. After a few seconds, Harry asked. "Do you hate me?"

Jeff started in surprise before shaking his head. Harry nodded at the answer before rushing up to him and hugging the psychopath, surprising both the recipient of the hug and the two observers. Harry's voice was muffled by the hoodie. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I promise I won't go back to your room or touch that photo again. I promise!"

Jeff awkwardly patted the kid on the head like he vaguely remembered doing to his brother during moments where he'd be sobbing in his shoulder. "Uh, okay. Fine."

"No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that! It was your picture and your privacy, I shouldn't go through it."

"Don't sweat it or get all sappy on me, kid. Okay? You know, the whole 'I was in the wrong', 'I shouldn't have hurt you', etc., etc. Now, let's just forget about it okay? You're getting my hoodie all snotty."

Harry backed away and wiped his nose mumbling "sorry". Jeff sighed. "Look, we all have regrets, so just don't worry."

Harry nodded and walked back to Slenderman standing in the doorframe when he heard the psychopath clear his throat.

"And for what it's worth… I guess… I'm sorry, too."

Harry nodded happily and walked off with Slender.

* * *

Jack cast an eyeless side-glance at Jeff. "Wow, I think that's the first time I've ever heard you apologize for anything and not be snarky or sarcastic."

The scarred teen scoffed. "Well, he's just a kid. Whaddaya expect? Plus, he didn't mean anything and it _was_ sorta my fault for going off the deep end."

The doctor hmmed with a smirk. "Well, I guess the others won't mind me saying that you actually have a soft side."

"Tell BEN and I swear I'm gonna shove that stethoscope where the sun don't shine!"

"Why Jeffery, this is so sudden and we haven't even had a first date." Jack put his hands to his cheeks as though he were blushing.

"Screw. You."

* * *

**AN: No! Back, yaoi fangirls! Back! *cracks whip and points a lion-tamer chair at a horde of zombie-like teens* Back, I say!**

**I initially intended to split this so the chapters were different between the exploration and the actual Rage (though the exploration did have a purpose besides character backstories), however I agree with a lot of you and I want to get through all the "Introductory" stuff, but I really, really, _really_ want Harry to get around to Hogw- er, a non-specific location… possibly magical… possibly in Scotland.**

**(Come on, who writes a Harry Potter fanfic without Hogwarts?! That's like Percy Jackson without the Greek Gods, or fruity, tropical drinks without the mini-umbrellas! There's no point!)**

**I don't own Goonies, Amnesia, Cry of Fear, or the Tickle-Me-Elmo (well, I did, technically, own one when I was a kid, but we sold it in a garage sale years ago).**

**I also don't own these hinted references. Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd (the chair, razors, and Mrs. Luvett's cookbook). Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe (tall wardrobe with carvings). Constance Hatchaway (Disney Haunted Mansion creation) (The portrait with the missing heads).**

**Dr. Who (P.S. Fezzes are cool. Bowties are cool. Cowboy hats are admittedly not as cool, but River took care of that one for us) [For anyone outside of the fandom that sentence must have sounded absolutely crazy].**

**The image of Jeff's face splitting open was directly inspired by "Cry (Jeff the Killer)" by deviantart username "Zlata666". She's a really good Creepypasta artist (not endorsing in any monetary fashion, just an opinion).**

**The original L.J. origin was too unsettling for me, so I took some liberties in my own back story for him (Sorry, Snuffbomb).**

**I hope you enjoyed the update! Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

* * *

**E.J. Origins: "Origin of Eyeless Jack" by Kiki-Hyuuga [deviantart-based]**

**Laughing Jack origin story… I think it was by Snuffbomb? Either way, I don't own it. Also, it's a very disturbing piece. I honestly do not recommend it. For those who are now wondering/tempted, it's essentially very graphic torture for the latter half of the creepypasta.**


	11. What Gives the Bogeyman Nightmares?

**AN: Keep reading. I know you might be tempted to close out in this chapter, but I beg you to keep reading at least to the halfway point.**

**If you haven't figured it out by now, this is a High Teen rating because of the bloody nature of Creepypastas. I can guarantee there won't be mature... "pleasure" scenes, but the violence will be evident.**

**-Crow**

* * *

Slenderman walked through the forest that night. The moonlight provided enough light that anyone could really see, but even then he didn't really need it. After all, it wasn't like he actually had eyes.

His normally silent footfalls crunched slightly under the branches and various mulched plant matter on the forest floor. The spring dampness gave way to the early summer season, but a few mushroom cultures managed to survive the drier, sunnier conditions and popped out of tree trunks and fallen logs around him.

The pale, blue moonlight illuminated a light mist settled around the floor, obscuring finer details underneath, but giving an ethereal presence to the forest as it blurred everything to solid white outside of a 50 foot radius of clarity around the entity.

The forest life was silent as always whenever he was nearby, not that he really minded at all. He preferred the silence to anything else. It helped him clear his thoughts more easily than if he was bombarded with noise back at the manor.

In the back of his mind, as he walked, something bothered him.

He couldn't quite place it.

He arrived back into the mansion's clearing. The lights were on and gave a cheerful yellow glow to the otherwise depressing or unnerving outward appearance. Sally and BEN were playing the princess and the knight, respectively, around the yard with wooden swords and pretend demons. Harry was content to pet BRVR on the porch while Jeff played fetch with Smile and a stick. The Rake sat on a stump and clicked its talons like it does when it's bored.

E.J. was calmly waving to him while L.J. looked bored as usual with nothing to prank anyone with.

Slendy frowned. Everything was right, but… at the same time, something was… wrong.

Something shuddered in the air around him and he looked up to see a curious, brown barn owl swoop onto a nearby branch. He scrutinized it, curiously. The owl didn't fly away from him like most did and it just stared.

Finally, it opened its wings and flew almost directly at him before dropping a small, brown envelope at his feet. Despite his mind screaming 'don't open it!', his body didn't obey and the paper was torn open. He unfolded the piece of paper apprehensively and revealed an intricate array of symbols and geometric figures.

He began processing the possible meanings of this, when the figure glowed red!

The wind around him swirled, picking up bits and pieces of leaves and even small chunks of mulch. The disturbance died down as soon as it came and he was left with a piece of paper and a now-black symbol. "_What on earth_-"

*Zip!*

He jumped back as a red light flew near him and impacted a tree, leaving a black scorch mark. He wheeled around to find men and women in black robes suddenly appear and whip out sticks while shouting indiscernible phrases as jets of light erupted from their wands around them.

A group of four or five approached him, their wands drawn and glowing ominous shades of red, green, and yellow.

His tentacles wriggled from his back, before shooting out at his would-be-attackers. At the same time, he anticipated and dodged spellfire from all angles. He could feel his tentacles impacting the wizards around him and directed them towards punching a heart clean out of the chest, impaling the brain, taking out the eyes, etc.

A nasty, red spell managed to graze his suit, leaving a good sized tear and burn mark, but all-in-all, the wizards were outmatched and he found himself the victor in the center of a ring of five corpses.

He took a moment to look back at his charges and was pleased to see them holding against their opponents. Jeff's knife was slashing out and incapacitating anyone who came close. E.J. was throwing scalpel projectiles like darts with deadly accuracy. Even Sally and BEN were putting up a good fight. Sally with her brute force methods and BEN with his not-entirely-digital sword.

"Enough!"

The entity turned towards the source of the sound and was met by a sight that might possibly cause him to laugh, on any other occasion.

In the middle of the clearing was a man who looked like he was easily approaching 500. His long, white beard, gold spectacles, and blue and silver robe and pointed, conical hat reminded him comically of childish renditions of wizards and Merlin. The wizened old wizard had his own wand and raised it in the air.

The tip glowed white before a "pulse" of energy rocked across the battlefield. Slendy looked back in dismay as it changed everything. It was as thought the wizards were empowered by the blast of magical energy.

Sally stopped attacking and clutched her head as though in agony and was subdued by glowing, blue ropes of energy surrounding her and dragging her to the ground. Another witch walked up to her and held a small, sheep skull while chanting ominously. Sally's body writhed and glowed before fading away.

BEN was reduced to a glitching mess of code, much like Harry's episode, but worse. The barrier of magic kept pulsating from the old man's wand and the computer virus was bombarded with the energy. Each pulse caused his form to destabilize more and more. First into glitched blocks, then colors, then lines of binary code flittering around a space, before the final blast tore through the small figure of green text and it dissipated into green arcs of electricity.

Jeff kept on slashing as best he could, but a quick shot in the back caused his white hoodie to slash open and crimson began staining outwards. Others took advantage and white sickle-shaped spells kept shooting at the teenaged killer. After just seconds, the most infamous serial killer was a collection of bleeding ribbons strewn on the ground.

Smile was weakened by the blasts, but rushed to his master's aid before also getting caught into the fray. Slendy was horrified, but couldn't seem to look away.

One-by-one he saw his associates, colleagues, wards, and friends turned to ash, melted into blood, or just struck by some spell or another and falling over dead.

He turned back to the wizard and found the wand was no longer above his head, but pointed directly at him. He dodged left just in time for a bright, red beam of light to fly right where his body was.

He regained his footing and allowed his tentacles to emerge from his back. Focusing a couple, they shot at the aged wizard with deadly precision. He was surprised that the old man was rather agile and managed to dodge each one before they hit.

He sent a large, red wave of concussive force at the tentacles whose tips were embedded in the ground. The tentacles exploded in black ichor and retreated back to Slendy. The entity calmly glanced at them, confirming that the ichor was already staunched and new tentacle tips were already growing from the stumps.

From the man's face, he hadn't expected that and sent out various colored beams at the entity. At any other time, Slenderman might have been amused by the almost childishly bright reds, blues, yellows, reds, and greens that the spells produced. The entire time, the old man was shouting something unintelligible while firing curses and spells at him.

The faceless being couldn't make out what was being said despite his extremely acute hearing, but managed to discern "monster" and "justice" and "rescue". He chuckled mildly at the poor fool's hubris. He enacted the rule he'd engrained in most of his wards' heads;

When in a life or death situation-

_-screw the witty banter._

He rushed the wizard moving swiftly, teleporting left and right to avoid spell fire. He got up to the wizards' face and saw the widening of his eyes before a black tendril impaled the wizard's abdomen and leg.

He heard a scream and turned to see several wizards converging on Harry. The young boy was being carted off kicking and flailing, but to no avail.

One of the robed figures turned back towards the manor and unleashed a jet of orange fire from their wands which quickly caught. Soon, the ancient mansion was a pyre.

He made to move towards the remaining attackers, when he suddenly realized he couldn't budge an inch. He turned back to the wizard and found the old man managed to get up and pointed his wand directly at him.

In horror, he looked down and watched as his body was slowly encased in an amber crystal obviously directed by the man's wand. Soon he was as immobile as a fly in amber, though the crystalline prison was a clear yellow, so he was perfectly able to see his surroundings.

The mob of wizards were still holding a protesting Harry in their arms, the young boy's eyes pleading for help before widening in terror seeing Slenderman's state. His flailing was ultimately useless as the wizards cast the same spell to produce bright ropes of light as they had for Sally before vanishing suddenly with the youngest ward in tow.

Slenderman could only look at the devastation in front of him. Masky and Hoodie were charred skeletons a few feet away. Toby was lying on the ground, sporting a large hole in his chest. Jeff was a pile of bloody shreds with Smile next to him. Everyone else was either exorcised, dead, or dissipated. The manor itself was now beginning to collapse from the charred supports.

The old wizard limped into his line of sight and quickly pointed his wand to himself. The wounds caused instantly healed and the man rolled his shoulders as though he'd merely succeeded in "popping" a particularly annoying ache in his neck rather than healing life-threatening wounds.

Another wave of his wand and the bloodstains on his robes were gone as well as the holes were immaculately patched without a seam.

The wizened wizard looked on at the scene, seemingly pleased at what had happened before turning to the encased entity. The man smiled before, too, vanishing. Slenderman stayed suspended and watched as the seasons changed, the bodies crumbled.

The sky erupted in fire.

**The earth cracked open.**

**The balance swung out of control-!**

* * *

*gasp!*

The bed creaked loudly in protest to the sudden shift as Slenderman shot up. He looked around the darkened room with his heart-like "core" beating a black blood-like ichor through him. It had been aeons since he, the Slenderman, had a nightmare. Let alone one that got so out of control.

He calmed himself and took a moment to confirm it all.

The house was still standing.

The earth was still spinning.

A brief pulse for life signs confirmed Harry was sleeping down the hall and was not kidnapped.

There were no wizards breaking into the-

He winced.

He felt the mansion's protections reject a particularly stubborn bird and caused it to fry from the secondary level of protection, along with the parcel or letter it carried. He made a mental note to give Smile the roasted bird's corpse in the morning.

The protections were natural to their location, set in place by him. They acted as shields to keep away intruders from getting too close to the mansion and also as redirection for satellite surveillance. It essentially blocked off their little area of space from everything in the Universe around it, like a tiny pocket dimension that let in heat and light and took up the same amount of space it seemed to "displace".

There were multiple layers, the outermost being a simple fence with a "No Trespassing" sign and a small ward that acted as an alarm trigger to who goes in or out that way. Three more radiated in from that and were further alarm triggers to gauge location and direction of the intruders. Then, after that, came the more defensive measure wards.

The first layer was a simple mental deterrent that was non-lethal and for mostly wanderers and the occasional very-lost hiker. The second layer was a more violent deterrant that acted more like an electric fence for those that managed to have enough intent to get through the first. Small creatures like those unfortunate birds would fry upon impact while more stubborn humans would probably be rendered unconscious.

The third layer involved much more lethal actions that amounted to something more like electrified razor wire, in which simply walking through it caused massive damage and specifically aimed to maim. This was for exceptionally strong or exceptionally electrically-insulated threats that might actively target the mansion.

He supposed that was the trigger for the nightmare. The bird's initial approach, triggering the alarm wards, then rejection by the first level of wards, and he'd woken up in time to feel it try again and get zapped.

It was no longer uncommon for hawks, jackdaws, ferrets, or, more popularly, owls to fly into the shields with the intent of finding the manor only to either be sent away in the process or die trying. He knew it was the attempts of the Wizarding world to get Harry, but he didn't know whether to commend them for their idiotic persistence or condemn them for their lunacy over a simple 7 year old.

Ever since around November, the wards were actively keeping these creatures at bay by actively deterring them all the way in England to rerouting them. However, since around December, they'd found a way to finally reach the ward line themselves. They never got further than the second level and most were still just redirected, but it was still a headache he intended to fix within the next week or so with new protection designs.

He laid back into the pillow and stared at the ceiling for a second, mulling over the dream. He should've figured something was off. He remembered being in the forest, but not how he got there. He walked away from the house only to walk towards the house. And even then, there were his wards doing playing about outside late at night? So many inconsistencies, but he was too engrossed in the dream to notice them.

After almost a half hour of staring at a crack on the ceiling (which he'd decided looked more like a tree than anything), he got up and headed downstairs. He paused when he got down and saw a light in the kitchen. A definite plus of being non-human was that he could walk, glide, teleport, etc. without a sound.

He peered through the crack in the door and saw Eyeless Jack asleep at the table, a plate with cold heart with marinated mushrooms next to him and papers and diagrams sprawled across the table like an intricate and scientific tablecloth. His blank, black sockets were devoid of the usual alertness and seemingly stared vacantly in space. Only the soft snores indicated he was actually asleep.

He sent a small fritz of sigma around him and the eyeless doctor jerked awake as his synapses registered the influx of radiation. He immediately found Slendy and relaxed before wiping a small dribble of black drool from the corner of his mouth with embarrassment.

Slendy chuckled. "_Good Morning, Jack. Sleep well?_"

Jack grinned sheepishly. "Well, sorry, I got wrapped up in my work. Ever since the breakthrough a couple months ago things have been falling into place and as a scientist, it's hard to go to sleep after that "ah-ha" moment leads to several more." He adjusted the papers and stopped, raising his head in the direction of the window. He scowled at the dark, blue hue of early morning. "Hey! What gives? It's like, 3 AM!"

"_Technically morning_." Slendy countered as he heated a mug of water.

"Technically, I could've slept for about four more hours." He grumbled. He raised an eyebrow over his empty socket. "So, what about you? What's got you up?"

The entity sat down at the table and put a tea bag in the mug of steaming water. He was silent for a few moments as an amber cloud of tea essence spread out in the water. After a while, he spoke. "_Bad dream_."

Both of Jack's eyebrows lifted. "Woah. So, the eternal question; what gives the boogeyman nightmares?"

"_Madmen with the power to end the world_." Slendy replied evenly, sipping his tea. Jack's face retracted back to seriousness. "_These people are given a deadly weapon at age 11. They could kill anyone with a few muttered words, change the speed of light with a doodle, perhaps even f*ck with the planetary axis just because it's Tuesday night and they're bored! It's like giving a monkey a bright, red button to activate every US nuclear arms silo_!"

Jack couldn't help but snicker at the comparison, but quickly composed himself. "I can see why you're upset, but look at it this way-"

The entity raised his head to angle it towards the doctor.

"-they haven't blown up the world yet."

If he had eyes, Slendy would've rolled them. "_Yes, what a comfort. We're not all dead yet. Hooray._"

"No, seriously, these people have been around for… ages! I mean, you said it yourself, they live like Victorian London meets King Arthur, so they've got to have been around for a pretty long time. The fact that the world is still spinning means that they're not _all_ bad. There's got to be _some_ people with common sense."

"_Perhaps, but they seems to be dreadfully few._"

"Well, there's still hope."

Slendy remained silent and sipped his tea. E.J. was honestly surprised the liquid wasn't just flowing off his blank face to the sides. His boss was a complete anatomical mystery… but, then again, so was BEN, BRVR, Laughing Jack, and even Jeff.

After a minute or two of thoughtful silence, E.J. spoke. "I just want you to know that I think there have to be some kind of redeeming feature to this place. It's not all a bunch of manipulative bastards, right?"

"_Yes, but what kind of society puts so much effort into locating a single child from their world only to shove him back into an abusive home?_"

"Maybe they don't know that the Dursleys were that bad. This could be like an Amber Alert to locate a missing child, but with more… magical methods."

"_No. Something is wrong here. The Stalker reported that two of the Wizarding World's police were actively searching for Harry with the sole intent of bringing him somewhere only on the vague word of a single man. I don't know why, but I feel as though this "Dumbledore's" intentions aren't for the best. I mean, why else would he _personally_ send almost three… owls, ferrets and Lord knows what else _each week _to die from the protections?_"

E.J. hummed as he mulled over the information, but one thought kept surfacing. "Don't you think you're acting a bit like the Dursleys; A prejudiced fear of magic and the ones that have it?"

"_Don't compare me to those monsters!"_ Slenderman growled out. Jack didn't back down, but stared back impassively at an angered entity. Slowly, the flare of initial anger died down and Slendy regained composure and thought it out.

Jack continued. "There's good and bad everywhere, Slenderman. Be it our world, the Human world, or this Wizarding world. Someone as devoted to the Balance as you should know that, at least. Let's at least let Harry get a sense of the place first when he's old enough. It _is_ kind of like his birthright, don't you think?"

"_Very well_." The being mumbled, then in a louder voice added, "_but we are still preparing him for the when the time comes. I have no doubts that when- not if, _when_\- they find him, they'll redouble their efforts to keep him."_

The doctor sighed. "Well, I can't say I see the logic in your paranoia, but at the same time I can't help but agree with you from a gut feeling." He picked up his materials in a neater stack of papers. "Until his eleventh, I guess we just do business like usual?"

"_Agreed, we maintain his meditations, it seems to be doing a lot of good, and in the meantime scope out as much as we can about this world and any possible defensive measures against it._"

"Should we try to initiate contact with them? I mean, it'd be a lot easier for Harry to learn control if he meets with these people earlier, right?"

"_As usual, your logic is sound, but I don't want to risk telling too many people outside of our world about this. We don't know how they will react or how many connections this Dumbledore man has. For all we know, he could be the equivalent of a king and any wizards will report Harry's location to him. So for now, we keep this among our world. Understood?_"

"Yes, sir."

Jack nodded and left to bring the stack of papers back down to his lab, leaving the faceless entity to steep in his thoughts as his tea did the same.

He supposed Jack was correct. For that matter, so was his brother, annoying as he may be. Slenderman preferred solitude, secrecy, and more conservative views and these people threatened that secrecy and one of his wards, so he held prejudice against them all. Save for Harry, of course.

He weighed the options.

On one hand, he could avoid these people entirely and find some way to never encounter them ever again. Thereby, maintaining secrecy against them and working on defensive measures in secret.

On the other hand, he could allow Harry to interact with these people and learn their culture and nuances. They risk their secrecy, but at the same time have the benefit of being involved and possibly changing the society towards Balance.

He sat pondering for some time. By the time he pulled himself from his stupor and took a sip of his tea, it was stone cold and the others were at the table, watching him uneasily. What else were you supposed to do when your guardian hadn't moved from that position in over four hours?

* * *

A few more months passed since then. Slenderman met with a few protection specialists from the Council and updated the wards to stop these owls from finding them in the first place. The entity explained to them that it was just a recurring problem with stubborn animals and left it at that.

He knew the Council would eventually need to know about this, but he feared the repercussions resulting in Harry's removal from the home or possible… _removal_ as a security hazard.

It was done before and it would probably be done again.

The weeks passed by and Harry was adapting well. His body had grown appropriately with the nutrient-rich diet Jack had suggested as well as the daily physical education course. True, he hadn't gotten around to the stabbing dummies just yet, but those could wait.

So, life at the manor went on with the usual "jobs" and "hunts" and Harry seemed to be acclimating rather well.

As the heatwaves of summer rolled in, Slendy noted that it was rapidly approaching the end of July. He alerted everyone and they prepared accordingly.

After all, Harry's birthday was just a few days away.

They'd never guess it'd go to Hell so quickly.

* * *

**Happy Halloween!**

**Sorry this is so short. This was inspired by Luna Silverpoint's comment about how Slendy was a bit prejudiced with the Wizarding World. I agree, so I put in this chapter. Also, my younger sister (now beta-ing this story) talked about an "epic fight between Slenderman and Dumbledore", so I thought this might be fun, though a real fight wouldn't be for a while.**

**Also, thank you "sparrowflyaway" for pointing out that BRVR is remarkably cat-like. I know Pikachu is "the electric _mouse_ pokemon", but I tried imagining a rat-like Pikachu as a pet and I didn't like it. I also couldn't imagine a real-life pikachu (like a chubby, yellow pikachu standing next to Harry) and a cat seemed the most appealing as a pet (no offense to rat-owners).**

**Also, I found this image of BRVR on Google Images from fanpop that was a skinny cat-like Pikachu with blood. I just found it a lot easier to imagine and picture running around Harry. So, I apologize if at times BRVR seems too cat-like.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**


	12. AN Rewrite

**Hello readers,**

**I was initially going to do this later this month after I finished the next chapter, but because of the tragic loss of Alan Rickman (aka Severus Snape), I decided to do it today.**

**I've spent the last few months studying for finals and finishing my semester strong, dealing with summer internship applications, and in my spare time reviewing and rewriting this story along with others.**

**Nothing major has been done, just a few plot-holes fixed and a few new features added.**

**I recommend rereading the entire story from chapter 1. It's been a while, so it may help in remembering what happened and also because a lot of new features have been brought through.**

**I especially advise you reread chapter 4. There is a critical new character introduced that becomes crucial later on in the story.**

**Some new features to look out for:**

**-Jeff has a NOSE!**

**-BEN has severe hydrophobia  
**

**-Toby stutters when excited or nervous**

**-Some new minor characters and character development in the Disney Arc**

**-Some minor edits to the glamours**

**-More explanation on Sally's existence**

**-L.J. has a "pocket dimension" feature and a serious side. Also, more backstory on his interdimensional origin**

**-Slight change to the Michelle story in Chapter 3**

**-Major Change to the investigation in Chapter 6**

**-Implied character prescription drug addiction**

**I've also cleaned up the AN's in each chapter, getting rid of old messages and making them more appealing.**

**I am overwhelmed by how many people enjoy the story and I hope to keep you all entertained by my work.**

**Happy 2016.**

* * *

**Sincerely,**

**The Smiling Crow**


	13. Birthday Brawl

**WARNING**

**Chapter rated: High Teen**

**For: violence, mild blood, mild gore, and brief anatomical description of death scene**

**Personally, I read books/manga with this level of stuff around 13/14, so "Teen" is relative, but to be on the safe side, I'm putting in this warning.**

**Also, high Teen for an unpleasant event that is necessary for Harry's transition.**

**You have been warned.**

**-Crow**

* * *

Harry blearily opened his eyes. Sunlight kept pouring in from the window, filtered from the overcast. He welcomed the light, it was a much more welcome transition from waking up to Petunia Dursley's banging and shouting and then sitting up in complete darkness. However, he couldn't deny that a little extra sleep was always welcome.

Outside, the trees were green and there were actually signs of wildlife around the mansion, though mostly heard through the fog around it. Harry thought it was a welcome change to arriving in the late fall when everything was barren, dead, and gone. Slendy had shown him the nature paths around the place and Sally would play "Save the Princess from the Dragon". At her insistence, he'd be the "prince" to rescue her, the "princess", and Toby would gladly play the part of the "Dragon".

Harry got _very_ adept at dodging the _actual_ fire blasts the excitable pyromaniac threw at him.

The young boy pulled on his glasses and got ready for the day before stumbling down the stairs into the kitchen-

*FWEEEEE!*

He jumped as his eyes focused and he found Laughing Jack blowing a black and white paper noisemaker in his face. Looking around the room, he saw a few odd streamers and balloons as well as the "Happy Birthday" banner draped across the table. They'd brought out that banner for Toby, Jeff, Brian, Tim, and Sally's birthdays over the last few months.

"Happy birthday, kiddo!" The monochrome clown cackled. He was pretty excitable whenever the word "party" was brought up in conversation… or implied in a conversation… or even if he misheard it for another word.

Harry sat down at the table (or, rather, was pushed into the seat by Jack) and saw Sally was already there in a conical hat with balloon and confetti designs. BRVR was already under the table delving into a dog dish of raw, red meat, but the physical computer program still jumped up and nuzzled a bloody cheek against Harry's hand.

Laughing Jack set down a plate of what he called "a _light_ breakfast". Essentially, picture a large, fluffy pancake on the plate, then add whipped cream and strawberries, then put a waffle on top. Layer on a blackberry spread with some more whipped cream. Finally, top it with a slice of French toast and make the entire thing white with powdered sugar followed by drowning it in maple syrup and adding a large dollop of Rainbow-sherbert ice cream on top with a bright red cherry.

Stuck into the top of this conglomeration were a couple special, edible sugar sparklers and a white and blue fondant candle lit at the top. Then coat it in multi-colored sprinkles and edible paper confetti and you've got an inkling of what the breakfast was.

Harry made doubly sure to brush, floss, and mouthwash after just _looking_ at it.

Eyeless Jack walked in with a small clipboard of his most recent research and saw the sugary mountain sparkling away in front of Harry. He turned to LJ, "And just what is _that_?" He asked, pointing in the general direction of Harry.

"It's not nice to call people 'it'. We all know that's Harry. We got him a couple months ago.  
Remember?" LJ said smirking.

Jack's left eyebrow twitched over his socket. "Not him, _that!_" He said, pointing more directly at the pancreas's nightmare.

"It's his special birthday breakfast!" LJ said cheerfully… or was it tauntingly.

"Jack, I've seen pancreases- Hell, I've eaten pancreases, and I can tell you that that… _sugar-coma on a plate_ will cause it to jump out his mouth, screaming, and commit seppuku with that butter knife."

Harry snickered at the mental image before addressing the doctor. "It's alright, Jack, I probably won't eat it all anyway."

Sally grinned. "If you want, I'll take half." Her eyes sparked.

Harry cut the massive confection in half and put the bigger portion on a separate plate for Sally. She greedily dug in with a spoon with a food-muffled "'Fank 'oo" to Harry. The young wizard suppressed a grin at the Jacks' polar opposite expressions.

Eyeless Jack could make a Greek-play-style mask of his face and it would be the perfect representation of "horror".

Laughing Jack had an expression of absolute glee. Partially because his cooking was being appreciated, partially because he knew the destructive capabilities of _two_ eight year olds.

Eight.

"Hey, I'm eight now!" Harry exclaimed.

"'oo juss' figerred 'at out?" (You just figured that out?) Sally asked, surprised.

Harry blushed. "Well, yeah, I mean I knew it's my birthday, but I never really thought about how we're the same age now… kind of."

Sally shrugged and delved back into tackling the French toast sector of the breakfast.

A few minutes later, Slenderman walked in, took one look at EJ's half-eaten creation on both of their plates and groaned. "_Excellent, now we have _twice_ as much sugar-high-induced terror to deal with today_." He sat down at the table and turned to Harry. "_Happy Birthday, Harry._"

Whether from all of the well-wishing this morning or quite possibly the pure, saccharine energy coursing through his veins, Harry seemed to glow in his seat. "Thank you, everyone. This is so wonderful!"

"Yeesh, it's not that big of a deal. What did you normally do on your birthday?" LJ asked casually, sipping extra- sweet hot chocolate despite the heat.

He made a small choking noise in his mug as the implications of his question hit home and he, along with the others, glanced at Harry and saw his glow diminish a bit. "Well… they didn't really do anything. Dudley… er, Dudley Dursely would usually get a lot of presents and go somewhere special on his birthday. I usually got a longer list of chores. The only time they really acknowledged it was my birthday was when Aunt Petunia said something like this day being the day I was brought in like a 'plague on the world'."

He plucked a strawberry from the waffle-pancake layer and nibbled on it. LJ made a save by snorting. "Wow, what assholes! And ignoramuses! How could _you_ possibly relate to the real 'plague unto the world'; Me." He said smirking pointing a thumb to himself. Harry chuckled at the antic and EJ continued.

"Yep, grade-F humans right there." The doctor said casually. "I'm not sure the Slorchers in the depths of the Underrealm would eat them. And they eat anything tastier than mud and feces."

Harry made a disgusted face, but nodded in agreement. Slendy had left him a book on some of the creatures and cryptids both in this world and the Underrealm. Slorchers were giant, black slug-things made of tar-like ooze that oozed around the depths of the Underrealm. He imagined one of Toshio's pokemon called "muk" in a slug form that essentially ate anything that wasn't bedrock.

LJ bounced up. "Yeah, don't worry about it, kiddo. You're never gonna have to darken their doorstep again."

EJ hid a small smile. "Or what's left of their doorstep." He murmured, sipping some coffee.

Slendy raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. He turned to the now-eight-year-old and put a few manila folders on the table. "_Harry, today there is something I need to talk to you about. You see-_"

"WHASAAAAAAP!"

Slendy groaned as the pale, skeletal form of the Rake walked into the kitchen. The cryptid used one of its long talons to pierce a slice of meat out of BRVR's plate and ignored the growling Pokémon in favor of popping the bloody slab in his toothy maw.

"So, what's happening?" Rake asked through tendon and muscle tissue.

"_Well, before I was so rudely _interrupted_-_" He glared at the pale dog-man who shrugged nonchalantly. "_Today, I'm afraid I've been called away on assignment. Additionally, LJ has one as well and, I'm sorry Jack, but you'll have to put your experiments on hold. Someone specifically requested you for this assignment._" He stood and handed a manila folder to each of them as he spoke.

"Aw, c'mon!" Laughing Jack whined, browsing his file. "This is, like, the third guy this week! Can't the council just ask for somebody else?"

"_Read the description_." Slendy said, sitting back down and sipping his tea.

Jack returned to the file. "Subject in guardianship of a young female… age 9… wants 'imaginary friend to protect from-'" He scowled, exposing a lot of teeth. "Okay, you got me. I'll go."

"_Excellent._" Slendy turned back to Harry. "_Now everyone will be out of the house, today, so I would like you to stay in your room. You may practice your meditations and I figure we won't be gone more than an hour or-_"

"Bo-ring!" Rake interrupted. Slendy glared, but the cryptid just rolled its eyes and continued. "Look, Slendy, I've been thinking-"

"Rarely a good sign." LJ commented, smirking.

"-the kid's already seen someone offed, no offense," He amended at the entity's wince. "And you keep saying he's probably gonna be valuable to the Council, so… what if he shadows someone on their job? He won't do the actual… thing, ya'know? He'll just watch. Get comfy with it."

Slenderman sat back in thought. "_Well, I will admit your idea has merit to it, Rake, but I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea_."

"So give him someone with an easy job today. It is his birthday, after all." Rake countered.

Harry cleared his throat, causing the entity to "look" over. He spoke in as determined a voice he could "Slenderman, I think I'm ready."

The faceless being regarded him for a moment before nodding. "_Very well. I suppose it will be beneficial to you to at least have some degree of experience._" He turned back to the stacks of manila folders. "_Let's see-_"

"Hey, Slendy." Jeff said, walking in the kitchen.

The entity sighed. "_Apparently, in addition to being Harry's Birthday, it is now officially interrupt-Slenderman-day._"

"Huh. Well, Happy Birthday, kid. And I'll be sure to mark my calendar for next year, Slendy." Jeff said, carved grin widening.

Slenderman's exasperated posture suddenly relaxed and he projected an aura of "grinning" if he had a face. "_Why, Jeffery, I believe you may actually have timed your interruption perfectly, I see your job today is rather easy. Just a quick in-out kill in New York City. And since you're _so_ happy about Harry's birthday_." A black tentacle pushed Jeff, heels digging in the wood floor, towards the birthday boy. "_I've decided that as your personal present, which I'm willing to bet you've either forgotten or gotten a small keychain, _you_ may take him today and then show him around New York_."

"What?! Slenderman, I totally got a real gift for Harry!" Jeff protested.

"_Is it a keychain?_"

"…"

"_Thought so._" Slenderman set down his mug and stood up. "_Plus, I'm uncomfortable sending him with the others. Laughing Jack has an… unsavory character. Eyeless Jack has a rather dangerous cult that sprouted up in Utah. Everyone else is either out of the country or dealing with difficult "clients"… or is the Rake."_

"Hey! I'm still here you know!"

"_Jeffery, yours is an easy job, close by the Mansion, and you can show him around the city_."

Jeff's grin quirked to the closest thing to a frown he could manage before glancing over at Harry. Sure enough, big, pleading, emerald green eyes were looking back above a small quivering pout.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Whatever, fine. Just let me grab my hoodie and stuff."

Harry nodded and bounded up the stairs, grabbing his gray hoodie from a hook and slipping it over his shirt. He picked up a small wallet with a few dollars of allowance and put it in his jeans' front pocket. The excited eight-year-old ran outside and found Jeff waiting already glamoured in his mousy-haired, blue-eyed appearance.

Jeff glanced over and raised an eyebrow. "What's got you so hyper? You're literally going to see someone get killed… Aw, jeez, did you already snap, ya little psycho?"

"Ha ha. No, I'm still fine, thank you very much. I'm excited for seeing New York City! We're so close and yet I've never been there before! Although, I'm not looking forward to the killing part, but it has gotten easier." He admitted.

Slenderman had "family movie nights" with the tenants. Mostly horror, creature feature, or slasher films, but on Sally's night to pick, they'd usually end up with something like "My Little Pony" or "Barbie's Adventure". Aside from the occasional fluffy, pink, sparkly movies, the features helped him get more used to seeing his foster family come home drenched in blood.

Jeff nodded. "Good enough for me. Let's go." He started walking off into the forested area, following one of the many twisted paths. Every now and then, he'd glance behind him to check if Harry was still following before turning around and continuing.

Eventually, they walked into a small clearing Harry hadn't visited yet. It was just an opening in the dense trees with a small stone dais and pedastal in the center of a now-familiar symbol charred into the ground. It was a large circle a few meters in diameter with an X perfectly slicing it into quarters with the small, stone dais in the center of the X.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, spinning slightly in place to look around.

"It's a permanent Slender-port location." Jeff replied walking up to the stone.

"Slender-port?" Harry asked giggling.

Jeff snorted. "Yeah, it sounds stupid, but it's a good name. So, there are two ways to 'Slender-port'; first is to be in contact with the guy himself which means you can essentially go anywhere, but like I said you're pretty dependent on Slenderman. The other way is to use one of these. This is one of three or four around the Mansion. With it, you can reach certain "set" points around the world in pretty much any major city and a few minor ones. Look here."

Harry walked over to Jeff as he started activating runes on a crude map of the world etched into the stone. He tapped a few more shapes on the sides and the map shone with one bright blue flame-like light hovering above the East Coast of America with the label "New York; Central Park".

"Normally, these are used by official Proxies, but since you've been hanging around Slendy so much, you're sort-of radioactive-"

"Wait! What?!" Harry yelped.

"Calm down, kid, it's not like that! Yeah, you hang around plutonium long enough you're gonna die. You hang around Slendy long enough when he's emitting, you're gonna die if you're on his bad side. _You_ are not on his bad side. _You_ are not gonna die."

He rubbed his nose, eyes upward thinking up a comparison. "It's more like a suntan, I guess. Normally, radiation doesn't work like that, but Sigma radiation is really weird even by L.J.'s physics-nerd standards. As you get exposed to it more and more, you either develop Slender Sickness if you get it in a strong-enough dose or if you get it in tiny doses, you get sort-of used to it.

"Again, like the suntan, you gain a resistance to it. Though, you get benefits, too. You can use these terminal-things to get around. Tim and Brian can even teleport short distances on their own since they've been with Slendy for a really long time."

"So, I'm not going to die?" Harry confirmed.

"Well, I mean someday, yeah, but probably not anytime soon and I'm sure it won't be from Sigma." Jeff said, shrugging. The small, blue dot shifted to red.

"Alright, it's charged up. Ready?" The killer glanced over. Harry gave an affirmative nod and Jeff tapped the small light. The charred pattern around them briefly glowed red in the grass when the world around them suddenly plunged into darkness. Unlike Slendy's normal transportation, there was no rushing sensation, nor even the sensation of movement. The only thing he could see was Jeff, himself, the inky void around them, and the glowing red symbol under them.

Harry felt something solid beneath him, like the red symbol was on an invisible platform in the void, but that was it.

This experience lasted only a brief moment when the world suddenly came back into existence in a swirl of green. Harry blinked in surprise and found they were in the middle of a grove of trees. Looking around, he could see only trees and just above-

"Woah!" Harry exclaimed. All around them, just above the treeline, were the tops of buildings hemming in the entire area, breaking the illusion of nature.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, now pay attention." Jeff instructed. He pointed to a small scratch in a tree. It was a simple circle with an X engraved in the bark. "This, is called an 'Operator Symbol'. It's Slendy's personal signature. Literally. We think it's his real name, but he doesn't say. Anyway, Slenderman himself sometimes goes around and carves these into rocks, trees, buildings, and even fused sand. They become permanent links to the Mansion or a couple other 'Slender-port' spots.

"Now, close your eyes and 'feel' the symbol." Harry did as instructed and focused on the area he'd last seen the Operator Symbol. He became aware of a small "tingling" or "pull" at the edge of his mind along with a faint ear-ringing if he concentrated.

"If you focus, you'll be able to locate these from where you are. Try it out." Harry, again, closed his eyes and "felt" around. He managed to detect the strongest pull from the one right by them, but he felt three or four more faintly. "Follow them, and you just need to activate it to travel back to the Mansion. K' let's go."

With that, Harry followed the glamoured killer through the small, dense patch of trees and onto a main walkway. Harry hurried to keep up while looking at all of the different people walking by.

People in shorts and sweatbands ran by, some even jogging with dogs on leashes. Teens traveled in groups, chatting, playing with their phones, or even arguing. Men and women sat on benches scattered along the walkway reading, eating, sleeping, or a combination of the three. Preteens and Kids rocketed by on skateboards, skates, or unique variations thereof.

"Holy shit, it's a Lady Gaga wannabee." Jeff murmured, hiding a snicker.

"Who's Lady G-," Harry looked-

-and had to double-take.

The woman in question was wearing a dress made completely of red, plastic angles jutting out like shards of glass. Her hat was likewise red plastic and covered platinum-white and cherry-red hair in a short bob. Her handbag was also dyed red leather with small red buttons.

"Don't stare," Jeff muttered in his ear. Harry quickly looked away, blushing at the impoliteness. As they passed, he heard the woman mutter something about "fashion" and "uncultured kids" while practically feeling her glare boring in the back of his head.

"This way." The pale-skinned teen directed the younger boy through a few other paths until they finally came out to the busy streets. "Welcome to Manhattan!"

Harry gawked at the unbelievable amount of people around him. The Dursley family never took him to London and Privet Drive was sparse population-wise, so he'd never seen a crowd like this before. All around him, men, women, teens, children, dogs, and other beings clamored left and right trying to get somewhere. Thousands of people of different cultures and religions mixed and mingled in the ebb and flow of the sidewalks, adding to the noise of the city.

Cars and taxis drove by the street. Occasionally, men or women in sharp business suits would shout out for a Taxi and hop in the nearest one or the first one that stopped. Above the streets were ads, billboards, lights, and signs attached to the sides of buildings advertising everything the city had to offer.

He felt Jeff pull him over to the side of a building that had a small void from the flow of people. The disguised murderer glanced around before pulling out his phone and checking the time. "Well, I've got some time to kill before I kill, hehe, so what do you want to do, Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at the pun, but looked thoughtful at Jeff's real question. "Well… what is there?"

Jeff grinned, "In New York, what _isn't_ there to do. C'mon, kid, follow me."

Jeff led him through the grid-like streets of New York, passed thousands of shops, stores, kiosks, beggars, stands, and people. So many people.

Jeff bought him a "New York Bagel" and promised him it was a pretty big deal, apparently. Personally, Harry thought it tasted marginally better the bagels at the small bakery in the local town (but, then again, compared to the Dursley family's food rations, _anything_ tasted better).

They casually went through a few public museums and shops, but didn't buy tickets for attractions or anything terribly expensive. Jeff only had a few dollars on him and Slendy would probably need to have some extensive cranial damage (assuming the entity actually had a brain in his head) before he'd let the teen killer have a credit account. Jeff, himself, admitted that he'd probably max it out within the first week.

What caught Harry's eye was the number of art works scattered around. Some were stuck in store windows, others were graffiti on a wall, and still others were placed in the middle of throngs of people. The walls were murals of colorful paintings and images of people, places, events, or sometimes just tags of large, bubbly letters.

The other art was mostly… "confusing" was the right word for it.

Harry spent almost five minutes staring, with his head cocked to one side, at a black and white cube. A lot of younger people in their 20s with really bizarre outfits were standing around and gushing about how it was a symbol of something or a statement of some abstract social commentary.

As they walked away, Harry turned to Jeff and asked, "That was art?"

The teen shrugged, "No clue. I'm not an artsy-fartsy kind of guy. That modern crap looks the same to me- things that an art teacher would give an 'A for Effort' sticker in 3rd Grade- but, hey, apparently that black dot on a white canvas is worth millions, so…" He shrugged again, trailing off.

Harry shook his head, confused at it all. "I prefer more… _dynamic_ art, if you know what I mean," Jeff commented.

Harry's mouth downturned, "Do you mean…" He lowered his voice, glancing at random people not remotely paying attention to them, and leaned in conspiratorially, "your 'jobs'?"

Jeff grinned, "Well, yeah, I guess that counts as dynamic art, doesn't it?" He stopped and put his arms out in front of him, "The dash of blood, the chunks of guts, the aroma of fear, the work of my trade is misunderstood by so many… especially in Law Enforcement."

Harry was honestly surprised that the _literal confession to murder_ went completely unnoticed by anyone around them.

As they walked down the crowded streets, Harry heard sudden mismatched sounds playing random notes from a street corner. Jeff shrugged and let Harry lead them towards the sound. The corner was populated by several people, each with different instruments including a guitar, saxophone, horn, and fold-out synthesizer keyboard. Some other man had created make-shift drum sets out of some trash cans and empty containers.

The mismatched sounds were from the individual musicians playing their respective instruments tuning notes in preparation, some to the notes of the pianist. People gathered around as they tuned and chatted to one another. One of them put out a large, glass jar in front of the group and some bystanders already threw in spare change and a few dollars. The men smiled cheerfully before one turned to the rest.

"Okay fella's, let's play."

The drummer started tapping a lid rhythmically, producing a steady cymbal sound. The man with a bass guitar picked it up with a steady pluck from a low note, forming a deep, jazzy base.

"And a-one, and a-two…"

The saxophone and horn began playing a strong beat. It was a strong, upbeat music that was punctuated by a few notes or solo moments with the piano. A few patrons around them had taken partners and were swinging around and dancing wildly to the music.

After a few minutes, people kept filtering in and more people danced in the sides and tossed in money to the jar. Towards the end of the song, Harry put in a few of his own dollars in the jar, eliciting a grateful tip of the hat from the horn player. Jeff eventually led them away as the group finished up their piece and one of the players thanked the crowd and they began packing up for the evening.

As they walked away, Harry turned to Jeff, "What was _that_?"

"It's Jazz. They had Jazz in England, right? During WWII?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm not sure. It seems like the kind of music Mrs. Dursley would screech at for being played in the house and Mrs. Figg usually just listened to classical tapes, but I liked it. It was fun." He smiled.

"Mrs. Figg? Who's Mrs. Figg?"

"My old babysitter," Harry explained. "She was nice, I think, but she had a lot of cats and it always smelled like boiled cabbage."

"Eech," Jeff gagged, "I hate cabbage on a good day. Can't imagine it boiled. That's just nasty." He shuddered at the mental image of slimy, green, smelly cabbage leaves being swallowed.

They continued down the streets, passing a few more solo musicians playing saxophones, clarinets, violins, and guitars. A couple of street artists were marking up the concrete sidewalks with intricate chalk drawings that people were careful not to step on. One of Harry's favorites was an optical illusion one that made it look like it was a steep cliff downward to a ravine. The artists smiled thanks in return for his praise and continued to shade a particular bit.

The summer afternoon wore on and Jeff bought a hotdog from a vendor for Harry. It was enormous even compared to a normal hotdog! Harry blinked owlishly at the wide variety of condiments and bits on top of the mini-meal. He and Jeff brought them over to a nearby outcrop to sit on as they ate in silence, watching the flow of the crowd around them.

Jeff finished up and glanced at his watch. "Well, it's time." He tossed the wrapper in a nearby trash bin.

"Time for what?" Harry asked, wiping mustard off his face.

Jeff raised an eyebrow, "Did you really forget why we came here in the first place?"

"Oh." Harry's stomach twisted slightly at the thought. "Why did we wait so long?"

"Well, a) I thought you'd enjoy the city more before we got to the killing part and b) our intel around here told us the guy is pretty much a nomad and never stays in the same place, but always comes back to this one alley around the same time."

Harry hummed in reluctant understanding and followed Jeff as they navigated the grid of streets and buildings until the teen turned right into an alleyway. The alley branched several times until they came to a dilapidated part of the area. Aside from dead rats, the occasional cat (eating said rat), a few abandoned clotheslines, and a multitude of overflowing trash bins, the alley was deserted. Jeff directed Harry behind a dumpster and motioned for him to be quiet.

They stayed quiet for about five minutes. Every passing second, Harry became a little more hopeful that the job information was wrong and they wouldn't have to kill someone today.

*click clack click clack*

Harry peered around the dumpster and saw a woman in somewhat noisy shoes busy looking at her phone screen walking casually down the alleyway. He guessed she was pretty engrossed in whatever was "so important" as she nearly stepped on one of the rat carcasses… twice.

He turned to Jeff and whispered, "What are we-"

"AIEE!"

He and Jeff quickly ducked back into cover and peeked above the dumpster lid to see a bedraggled man in a worn-out coat holding the woman at knife-point. "J-J-J-JUST SH-SH-SHUT UP AND G-GIMME YOUR P-PURSE!" He roared at the terrified civilian.

He was extremely thin, his worn out clothes clinging loosely to his frame. His hair was clumped and falling out in odd patches, leaving glaring bald spots. His teeth were crooked, yellow and a number were missing, leaving blackened gums. His skin was clammy and pale except for a red, puffy shadow around his blood-shot eyes.

As he held the knife, Harry saw his hand was trembling and convulsing, but not with nervousness or conflict, but something else as the criminal's entire body sometimes twitched like Toby, but much less naturally, like Tim when he's anxious or stressed.

"Stay away from drugs, kid." Jeff murmured. He dropped the glamour and resumed his eyelid-less, permanently-smiling self. He turned back to Harry, "Stick around, okay?"

Harry nodded and the teen turned back to the scene and flipped up his hoodie hood. By now, the woman was holding out the purse and the drug-addict snatched it away, but kept his knife just under her chin with a malicious glint in his eyes. "P-p-pretty women like you sh-shouldn't be alone this t-time of day."

"Stealing a woman's purse. La-a-ame!" Jeff called out. The would-be rapist turned violently at the sound of the new voice. He quickly moved and pinned the woman to the wall with his elbow and redirected the knife on Jeff.

"I-I-I'm warnin' you! Stay the f-f*ck away!" The thief slurred, still twitching. His 5 inch blade gleamed in what little light of the afternoon made it down between buildings.

Jeff laughed. "Yeesh, I know 'size doesn't matter' and all that, but seriously you're compensating for something with that bread knife you've got there." He pulled out 'Beatrice', one of his 8 inch kitchen knives. "Now _this_ is a knife, small fry."

The druggie roared in anger for his pride and let the woman drop to the ground as he began slashing wildly at Jeff, who kept dodging the blows easily. Harry crept from his hiding spot and quietly made his way back to the woman, picking up the forgotten purse and dropped phone along the way.

The woman was catching her breath from being practically choked for a few moments. Harry handed her stuff over and she wheezed out a quiet 'thank you' along with a look of pure confusion at the scenario presented.

She was assaulted by a random stranger who almost choked her to death when another random stranger with the palest skin she'd ever seen suddenly appears and decides to fight her first attacker with a knife he happened to have on him. Meanwhile, another random kid with emerald green eyes walks up and hands over the stuff the thief tried to steal.

Even for New York, that was a new one.

She saw that the kid was staring wide-eyed at the white-hooded figure. Following his gaze, her jaw dropped as she saw the older boy pull off multiple acrobatics while avoiding the blade of the enraged man. He flipped off walls a few times, ending up right behind the first guy and just snickering as the confused druggie wheeled around.

"Stay still, ya freak!" He snarled.

The woman noticed the boy next to her flinch and the hooded figure stiffen slightly. The mugger took the opportunity and managed to slash at the teen's arm. He jumped backwards and clutched his left arm where some red started bleeding outward along the white fabric underneath his palm.

The mugger grinned cockily.

"So, you think I'm a freak?" The pale teen grinned under his hood. "You don't know the half of it."

The hand that was applying pressure to the wound rose and lifted the hood off of his face. She gasped as his face came into the light.

His unblinking eyes were a beady gray surrounded by shriveled, blackened skin. His skin was scarred, waxy, and white and his nose was scarred over and easily blended in with the surrounding face if not for an off-angle shadow. His hair was black and scraggly and fell to his shoulder blades. But what was worse was an awful, carved grin slashed into his cheeks.

The mugger gaped. "W-wha-what the hell happened to you?!" He demanded.

Jeff shrugged. "One really, really bad day. Anyways-," He raised his knife and jumped forward, taking the offensive.

The mugger stumbled, suddenly having to take defensive measures against the scarred killer. The woman kept looking on in horror as they now began a dangerous dance against each other. The raven-haired boy leaned over and whispered hurriedly in a faint British accent. "Run away, Ma'am. It's not going to be good."

She didn't need to be told twice and jumped to her feet, packing her phone in her bag and high-tailing it back to the main road as fast as she could.

Harry heard a strangled cry from behind him and saw Jeff back away from behind a dumpster, wiping his knife casually against his white hoodie. Jeff looked up and nodded to Harry solemnly.

"You ready to go?"

"B-but how are you going to move around? You've got b-b-blood all over you." Harry asked, still eyeing the dumpster hiding the corpse from his view.

Jeff wordlessly raised an eyebrow and his gaunt, macabre face reverted back to the mousy haired glamour complete with a perfectly white hoodie. "So, you ready?"

Harry nodded mutely and followed the teenager as he started walking away. Eventually, they made it to the main city area and Jeff stood still, seeming to stare off in space. After a moment, his shoulders sagged. "Dammit. The Port we got here is too far away. There's another pretty close by, so let's get moving."

Harry closed his eyes and repeated the action he did back in Central Park. There were about two or three signatures. The other two were faint, but the nearest one was further away from the way they came.

They kept walking away as the evening fell. They got further and further away from the large buildings and businesses and streets became more and more desolate until eventually they found themselves in a dilapidated neighborhood.

The houses were covered in brightly colored graffiti. Cement walls crumbled and wood supports creaked and groaned around them. Harry saw cats discretely moving about in the shadows and the occasional dog growling and skulking around rotting remains of dumpsters and trash bins.

He shivered as the temperature dropped with the sun. "Why are we here?"

"Slendy likes to put the Port locations in out-of-the-way areas. So that means abandoned houses, basements, forests, parks, museums, alleyways, even farm fields."

Harry continued walking, nervously glancing around at the sounds of rats skittering by, when he suddenly started, "Oh bullocks! Jeff, your arm! I completely forgot!"

Jeff snickered. "Really? 'Bullocks'? Where'd you even hear that word?"

"Uncle- er, Mr. Dursley liked to swear... a lot." Harry admitted.

Jeff scowled before returning to his neutral glamour. "Don't worry about my arm. It'll clot and I'll have EJ look it over when we get back. It'll probably need some stitches, but… meh." He shrugged.

"B-but what about that other guy's blood? You've got-… it's-" He pointed mutely at the bloodstains from the man mingling and mixing with the bloodstains from the slash.

"Worried about my health, kid? Aw, I'm touched." Jeff said sarcastically. "Don't worry. Second benefit to Sigma exposure. You're essentially your own walking radiotherapy. I haven't had a cold in years. All the viruses, bacteria, fungus, and shit gets blasted with Sigma instantly. It's like tossing a snowball in a furnace. Those little bastards have no chance." He grinned, already unconsciously plotting the demise of countless airborne microbes that dared infiltrate his lungs.

Their shadows lengthened against the cracked cement walls. Jeff glanced at the sun rapidly falling in the horizon. "C'mon, Harry, let's hurry it up." They quickened their pace along the cracked, desolate road.

History tends to forget places like these. Abandoned houses, forgotten neighborhoods, even entire towns brushed to the side and unnoticed except by the exceptionally bored web-surfer on Wikipedia or the extraordinarily lost on road trips.

This neighborhood was no exception. The entire location was almost completely forgotten save for a very small few which housed the occasional runaway, criminal, and homeless. The isolation made it a prime location for gangs, drug labs, and drop-off points for less-than-legal contraband. Among these were two volatile gangs; the Diamonds and the Black Scarves.

The Black Scarves started up as a result of two other gangs falling apart after their leaders and a substantial amount of their members were arrested or killed in an all-out showdown a few years ago. The group dealt with drugs, but specialized in illegal and slightly-less-than-legal documentation forgery. Birth certificates, death certificates, passports, even fake IDs for rich kids looking for booze. Another prime product for this gang was what partially inspired their name; illegal weapon trades. Black scarves with black ink and black guns. Their mark was, as the name suggested, a black scarf, black necklace, black collar, even a black tattoo around their throat.

The Diamonds controlled their "turf" above a certain street. They mainly dealt with the drug trade; heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, meth, even stuff from waste beakers of the illegal chemists who made it, but they also had a hand in the illegal human trafficking rings. Their tag was specifically white clothing. White scarves, white caps, white pants, etc.

By sheer dumb luck, that included white hoodies.

As Jeff and Harry walked to an abandoned parking garage, seven sets of eyes followed.

All of which had black surrounding their throats.

* * *

"Alright, kid, stick around." Jeff's voice echoed in the empty building.

They walked through the large, cement building. It was a couple stories high and slabs had already fallen through, revealing the steel rebar inside the structure. Occasionally, a rusted car on cinderblocks would lie in a forgotten parking spot, but it was mostly very empty.

Every few feet, Jeff would pause and note where the signal was coming from, directing them further up the levels.

After making it up to the fourth story of the building, Jeff walked up to a heavily graffitied wall. Sprayed on images had names, tags, pictures, and symbols. The scarred killer looked up at the wall and swore. He put his hand against the wall with his eyes closed and kept moving his hand around, trying to find something.

His eyes opened and he smirked with success, before the wall around his hand distorted. The paint seemed to peel away, melt off, or dissipate into air, leaving a foot-wide radius of clean concrete with a small, black Operator Symbol in the center, glowing slightly red from the job of removing paint.

Jeff knelt down and inspected the carving, "Okay, the symbol is still intact, but that clean-up job I did needs it to cool down first. Just stick around, it should be good in a few minutes."

Harry nodded and let his eyes wander around the graffiti as Jeff pulled out a phone and tapped away at it, idly.

*Clang!*

Harry started out of his thoughts at a loud, reverberating sound of metal on metal.

*Clang!*

Jeff looked up from his phone and stored it away in his pocket.

*Clang!*

Down the ramp of the parkway, a slim figure was banging a rusted pipe against the exposed rebar of the building as he and six others slowly advanced towards them.

Two guys led the pack. A large, black man easily in his early 20s. He looked like he was almost completely muscle mass under his jacket and a black, leather dog collar with silver spikes was around his neck. He had a couple switchblades in his hands, both gleaming threateningly in the dying sunlight.

In front of him, a slim Hispanic guy in a black fedora had the rusted pipe grinned cockily. He had an intricate, elegant black band tattooed around his neck. Practically dripping off of him was a blonde girl in skimpy clothes that would have Petunia Dursley calling a "harlot" at neighborhood tea sessions. She didn't have a weapon besides a small purse on her shoulder, but she had a silk, black choker around her neck.

Surrounding them were four others. An older white teen with a scraggly, black beard had two, large knives in his hands and two more in holsters at his side. He had an elastic, black band around his throat. A younger white teenager had a black bandana partially around his mouth, a silvery fedora and a metal baseball bat in his hand.

Behind them, two short figures strutted, trying to be intimidating. Both looked barely older than BEN. One was a young black kid with a small switchblade in his hand. The other was Latino with a pair of gloves and a pack of wires and tools at his side, in both hands were a particularly sharp screwdriver and a sharpened leather awl in the other. A plain, black scarf was around both of them.

Jeff casually put himself in front of Harry and didn't break eye contact with the people approaching. Harry anxiously glanced at the Operator Symbol, but it still radiated heat he could feel from their position.

"What're you doin' on our turf, man?" The large man said, arms crossed. Jeff grinned at the group, "Just passing through, you know?"

The Hispanic fedora guy scoffed, "Yeah, 'just passing through'; well we don't really _appreciate_ a _Diamond_ strolling through here."

Jeff frowned, confused, "A diamond? Sorry, I'm not one for jewelry."

"The gang, _tonto_. Your hoodie is the giveaway." The Hispanic kid piped up behind them.

"And _what_ is wrong with my hoodie." Jeff growled. Harry shrunk back a tiny step. Jeff was pretty vain about how he looked… like, _really_ vain.

The girl spoke, "White hoodie; white Diamond. You're one of those bastards North of the Street Border. Like my _boyfriend_ said, we don't appreciate you people on our turf." She sidled against the Hispanic, who smiled at her before turning back to the pair.

Jeff shrugged, "Look, it's just a white hoodie. I'm not a member of a gang or anything. Seriously, we're just on our way home, 'kay?"

The Hispanic guy raised an eyebrow as he registered Harry hiding in the shadows behind Jeff's leg. "Huh, looks like he's got a brat with him too. What's the matter, kid, cat got your tongue?" Harry nervously shook his head, retreating further behind the slasher's legs. "Well, where are our manners? We didn't even introduce ourselves, yet." He chuckled. "My name's Black Jack, I'm the leader and Brains of our little squad. And this here," he pulled the girl closer, "Is Kitty, my girlfriend."

Kitty waved mockingly at Harry with her fingertips. Black Jack continued, "The two kids over there are Lil' Vince and the one with the tools is Hotwire. The guy with _excellent_ hat tastes," the teen in the silver fedora nodded appreciatively, "is Silvertongue. The guy with the cutlery is Knives-"

"Huh, 'Knives', I like it." Jeff comments.

Black Jack cast him a humored look before finishing up, "And this here," he reached up and patted the large black man on the shoulder, "Is Mamba; the muscle of the group."

The large man growled lowly, but Jeff didn't flinch. The girl angled her head behind Jeff and looked at Harry. "So, kid, how-about you go run home to mommy, 'kay? You don't wanna be here when things get, _ugly_."

Harry felt his foster brother tense, but he maintained his composure… or he might have used a glamour to cover up a scowl.

"Nah, let him stay," Jack said, "You see, kid, this is what happens when you choose the _wrong_ side." He gestured to the others and they brandished their makeshift weapons.

Knives grinned, brandishing his namesake weapon, "Yep, once we're done pretty boy here'll be needing some plastic surgery for the slashes on his face."

Jeff ticked, visibly shaking at the verbal insult. Harry was backing away, eyeing his brother more like a grenade primed and ready. He was dangerously close to-

"Haha! I get it! 'Cause he'll be ugly." Mamba snickered.

Harry's breath caught.

His eyes shifted to Jeff, who was stock still.

Jeff was stuck in a mental loop.

_Ugly._

_Ugly._

_Ugly._

_Ugly._

"I think we broke him." Kitty tittered.

"Yeesh, a true man doesn't freeze up when insulted. He fights back. He takes action!" Black Jack scoffed, smacking his pipe against the concrete for emphasis.

"You think I'm ugly?"

The voice was rough, husky, and easily unheard if it didn't have a dangerous undertone to it. The seven gang members looked at the tense form of the teen. He stared, unblinkingly, at them with a lopsided grin.

"You think slashes are ugly? I don't." He murmured.

Kitty leaned over and loudly whispered, "Freak-alert."

"I remember when I woke up after the accident happened and… hahaha, I couldn't have been happier! Finally, I was perfect!" He giggled. He ran a hand through his mousy brown hair-

No, wait-

Scraggly, _black_ hair seemed to stream from where his hand ran along down his shoulder.

He looked up at them and his skin had gone back to its deathly pale white.

"What the Hell!" Knives exclaimed.

"But I couldn't keep it up," Jeff continued. "I had to keep looking at my face. I was beautiful! _So_ beautiful! But I got tired. My face got sore from smiling and my eyelids got heavy. I had to keep smiling. I had to keep seeing."

He grinned. "They had to go."

His glamoured eyes blinked and when they reopened, the eyelids vanished into shadowed, burnt circles around beady, gray eyes.

His grin widened-

And widened-

And split-

"Aren't I beautiful?" He whispered hoarsely.

The dying, summer evening light contrasted against his white and black color palate. White skin, white hoodie, black jeans, black trainers, black hair, black eyes.

It enunciated the bright red bloodstains splotched against his white jacket.

Probably more in a panic and fear than actual common sense, Silvertongue cried out with his bat swinging and aimed right at Jeff's head. The mutilated murderer caught it easily and gave an unblinking glare at the would-be-assailant. "You're a kid, aren't you?"

Still struggling to get his bat out of Jeff's iron grip, the gang member only nodded and stammered out, "S-sixteen."

Jeff's face was passively the same, but his body language conveyed disappointment. "Sorry, standard procedure has an 18 and up policy." He ripped the bat from his hands and jabbed at the back of the guy's head and his eyes rolled upwards as he passed out on the floor.

Jeff turned to the other six. "Well, you two," he gestured to Lil' Vince and Hotwire, who were terrified at the sudden shift in dynamics, "are obviously just kids. Slendy'd skin me alive. You're definitely a safe bet," He pointed to Mamba, who cracked his knuckles in anticipation, "And you," He pointed at Knives, "look about 18. Shame, though. I kinda liked your nickname… until you mentioned the plastic surgery."

He whipped out the large blade he used earlier, "_You_ are especially dead for that. As for _you_," He aimed the knife at Black Jack, "You're right. A real man takes action."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, he lunged towards the Hispanic gang leader, knife gleaming. Black Jack blocked his attack with the pipe and sparks screeched off the two weapons colliding. The gangster grabbed his arm and they were in a deadlock between the two.

Harry was frozen, unsure what to do to help the situation, when he felt two pairs of arms grab his sides. He found himself between the two youngest members, Lil' Vince and Hotwire. Both were eyeing Jeff fearfully, letting the older, larger members take on the terrifying teen.

Harry just watched as Jeff and Jack struggled. Harry saw the large man, Mamba, edging towards Jeff from behind. He let out a cry of warning.

Jeff spun, pushing away Black Jack in the process. The younger man stumbled and while he regained his footing, Jeff spun around, slashing at the larger man. Mamba was more agile than his hulking figure and managed to back away from each arcing slash of the kitchen knife.

Suddenly, Jeff recoiled as a glint of silver flashed by his arm. His hoodie started bleeding red around the glint and Harry heard a loud *clatter* against a wall as a custom-made knife impacted with the wall. Harry followed the trail of the knife back to its namesake Knives, still in mid-position from the throw.

Jeff slammed into Mamba, making him stumble backwards from the unexpected action. The killer then seemed to almost flash over to Knives, who barely had time to parry the knife with his own two blades. Both blade-savvy wielders were locked between blades, both hovering precariously close to the other's face.

Jeff grunted against the surprising young man's strength and was too focused on the knife, he didn't think about Mamba until a dark shadow fell over him.

*WHAM*

Harry screamed out as Jeff toppled from a hard punch to the side of the head. Knives put away his weapons, both he and Mamba staring down at the prone form on the floor.

Mamba chuckled, "Guess the freak-o's gotta glass jaw-"

With a shout, Jeff jumped up from his position and tackled the large man's upper body. The behemoth fell, head thumping against the concrete floor. He stared dazedly at the grinning psychopath straddling his chest. Then, felt his shoulders and head being quickly raised and forced back down.

A few more times and he was out like a light; a small bloodstain under his mildly concussed (but, remarkably, still functioning) noggin.

Knives backed away, eyes wide as he watched the muscle of their gang being mercilessly pounded against the concrete until his eyes rolled up and the mad teen stopped. He took up a more defensive position at the side of Black Jack, who'd retreated backwards. Kitty cowered next to him, eyes flickering between the pale teen and the downed figure of Mamba.

"Black Jack! J-Jackie! Do something!" She urged, shaking her boyfriend's shoulder. He winced and cast annoyed glances at her with each shake.

Jeff got up off the unconscious man's chest, glaring down the others. His face had streams of fresh crimson down them from the point where Mamba whacked him over the skull. Kitty shrieked as she felt a strong pair of arms force her to shift a couple of steps. It took a few moments for her to gauge her situation.

She had a psychopath with a knife in front of her-

-and her boyfriend behind her.

"You're using me as a SHEILD!?" She screamed.

"Don't think of it like that, babe," Black Jack said smoothly, "Remember Silvertongue? He can't hurt kids under 18. It's like the boogeyman, he can't touch you; you're 17."

"The boogeyman?! THE BOOGEYMAN?! This is NOT a loose toy under the bed, Jack, this is a real, f*cking person! HE'LL KILL ME, JACK!"

"Trust me, babe!" He hissed, ensuring he was completely behind her, holding her in a death-grip to keep her from struggling. He glared at the unblinking killer, nonverbally taunting him.

Kitty, meanwhile, jerked in his arms, trying to pry herself away, punctuating each word with a grunt of effort, "You. Abso-lute. Bastard! You're. Basing. My. Life. Off. A. THEORY!"

"Relax, doll." Jeff said, stunned at the first verbal response in the fight from him, Kitty stopped struggling, "Every guy knows not to hit the girl." His grin widened.

He drew his knife and curved his arm around his body. He whirled and let the knife go.

Kitty screamed as the gleaming blade seemed to fly straight at her-

-but watched as the blade _moved_ mid-flight.

The knife suddenly took a right curve in the middle of going straight for almost 7 whole feet. It curved, like it was following an invisible string around them- well, _her_.

Black Jack was almost slack-jawed as the knife suddenly curved just a few feet away from impacting his girlfriend. His mind barely processed the weapon's trajectory and his eyes widened as the blade's angle kept moving closer and closer-

He jumped backwards.

The blade breezed right in front of his jacket, inches from where it would have impacted his ribcage, but stopped curving as instantaneously as it started. His eyes followed the continued momentum as it slowly dipped down from gravity.

Knives roared in pain as the knife buried itself in his thigh. It didn't bleed too much, indicating that it luckily missed any important arteries. The young adult watched as the edges of his vision started dimming as pain registered and was hardly aware that his legs gave out under him and he was prone on the ground, careful about the protruding blade.

Kitty stood in a daze, her mind barely processing the fact that seconds ago a knife was heading straight for her head. She was a few seconds away from being dead.

"Damn, rotten boyfriends," She mumbled. Then her legs turned to jelly, she slumped to the floor, and passed out.

Jeff, meanwhile, was squared off with Jack, keeping the distance between them, but circling and waiting for someone to give up their guard. The excitement caused Jeff's blood pressure to break the clot in his arm. It began bleeding into the hoodie more, deepening the red stain and

Unknown to them, Silvertongue recovered from the blow to the head and stood up as he looked around. The freak was circling around Black Jack warily. The two newbies managed to hold down the brat, which at least helped somewhat. Mamba was down, but his chest still rose and fell with breath. Kitty was also passed out close to where Jack was. Knives was shuddering and whimpering softly, grasping his thigh and not removing the gleaming knife blade buried an inch or two into the meat.

The white-skinned creep had his back to the 16-year-old. He took advantage of the situation and reached for a bat, slowly but quietly stumbling his way over to the unsuspecting psychopath.

Harry watched with baited breath as his foster brother stood, facing the young man. Each were willing to kill. Each had probably killed before. Now it was a matter of who got the first (and last) blow.

A glint of silver caught his eye and he saw the teen Jeff first knocked out, Silvertongue, slowly walking up to Jeff, silvery baseball bat gleaming. He opened his mouth and suddenly felt a cloth shoved into it, unable to do anything but make muffled gagging noises. Vince leaned over, "Don't worry, it's clean, bro."

Harry looked pointedly at him, to convey 'that's not helping!'. Vince just shrugged and turned back to the fight. Harry looked around frantically for anything to make noise, anything to spit out the gag. Anything!

He needed something to warn Jeff!

He needed something to help Jeff!

He needed-

The ward of Slenderman remembered winter. Slendy brought him to a playground in California or somewhere still warm, he remembered those people and the ice cream van. He had his power!

His _unique_ power.

He felt around mentally, trying to get in contact with the energy. It was a lot easier thanks to the meditation and also the somewhat dire situation. At last, he found that small pool of energy in his chest and began to manipulate it, like breaking off a chunk of clay and kneading it.

He thought about what he wanted to do. He needed something to get Vince and Hotwire off of him as well as stop Silvertongue. Black Jack might also be nice, but Jeff's in the way, so he had to be cautious.

He relayed his intentions to the blob of energy and it began to take shape. It changed from an unimaginable, white substance to a volatile, red beam violently circling in place. It gathered speed and momentum in himself until he let it out with a cry.

A red ring, like an energy pulse suddenly pushed out from his center. Hotwire and Vince were both knocked back and knocked out from the energy while the ring extended its radius to Silvertongue as well. He flew off of his feet and landed, already knocked out, his bat clanging against the cement.

Unfortunately, the loud noise, combined with the thuds of three bodies, distracted Jeff. While he had his head turned, Black Jack struck!

He whipped something out of his jacket, tossing away his knife as he did so, and ran straight into Jeff's body. The experienced killer was too surprised and the older man got the upper hand, pinning Jeff down.

Harry saw, to his horror, that the item Jack took out was a sleek, black gun. It was angled just between the two, with both Jeff and Jack struggling for the angle, but despite Jeff's experience; his injured arm, probably concussed head, and general position under Jack meant the gun's barrel was slowly, but surely angling its way towards Jeff's head with Jack's finger still on the trigger.

Harry's mind was frantically weighing the decisions and possibilities, each getting more and more reckless as the gun got closer to its current target. Then, unable to stop himself, he was suddenly running towards the pair, he picked up the iron pipe Jack had lost earlier. Jack glanced backwards towards the echoing *clack* of footsteps across the concrete and saw the tiny, black-haired figure rushing towards him with the heavy pipe wound backwards like a baseball bat.

*WHAM!*

The pipe made contact with his head and he was flung off of Jeff, the gun went clattering across the ground. Harry kept at it.

*WHAM!*

*WHAM!*

*WHAM!*

Harry slammed the pipe against every part of the human anatomy he could reach, which equated to every bone in the leg, every toe in the foot, and a number of good bruises in the torso. Jack stumbled backwards each time.

Harry grunted, punctuating each syllable with a whack, "Don't! *WACK!* Hurt! *WACK!* My! *WACK!* Brother! *WACK WACK WACK!*"

The gang leader shielded himself, frustrated that he couldn't seem to be able to get over his shock at the miniscule kid using his own pipe against him. He could only stumble backwards as each blow seemed to hit a different spot each time.

It seemed too soon that he reached near the edge of the structure. The cement underneath him was cracked and the rebar had rusted to a brittle red-brown rod embedded in the concrete floor.

The boy got frustrated and wound up taking the pipe and simply throwing it straight at the older man's head. The metal struck the side of his cheek, sending a loosened tooth flying as well as a few flecks of blood, landing on Harry's clothing. Harry found he could "feel" the pipe with his ability and it came whizzing back to his hand like a boomerang.

Severely disoriented, he tripped over a chunk of missing concrete and fell backwards against the crumbling edge. Harry leapt away as he saw him fall.

Black Jack screamed as the floor gave out from under him and he fell three stories to the pavement below. The rebar protruded from the wreckage dangerously and the falling leader landed right onto it. The result was the steel spikes tearing through the body, ensuring that if the fall didn't already kill him, the impalement would.

Harry stood at the top of the building, directly in front of the gaping hole that was once somewhat solid ground. He stared down at the spread-eagle figure lying on top of a large pile of rocky rubble, iron pegs protruding grotesquely from his torso, limbs, and one in the center of his face.

The boy numbly let the lead pipe slip from his hands. It bounced on the pavement and fell into the rubble itself, lost in the twisted rebar and concrete. He couldn't pry his eyes away from the deceased figure.

"Woo!" Harry quietly turned and saw Jeff get up and dust himself off before walking over, "Nice job, kid! I seriously owe you one! Another minute and I'd have a new hole in my brain."

He nudged Harry away from the precarious edge, "You saved my ass, so you're alright in my books. Sorry for doubting you earlier."

Harry barely registered as Jeff lead him to the wall. The Operator Symbol had long-since cooled. The shadows swirled around them and they were gone.

Everyone there was unconscious (or, in Jack's case, dead) so none of them saw them leave, but the distant wail of sirens indicated that someone had heard the commotion, saw the wreckage, or heard the scream and phoned the NYPD.

Mamba and Knives (real names Marcus Williamson and Jeremy Bates) both received medical attention and survived their encounter with the legendary Jeff the Killer. Kitty, Silvertongue, Vince, and Hotwire (real names Sarah Anderson, Anthony Summers, Vincent Cross, and Carlos Sanchez) were taken in for questioning, but released as minors. Black Jack [Age 19] (real name Juan Garcia) was eventually interred.

Police found no footage of the two mysterious figures leaving the crime scene. The story about the "guy-in-the-white-hoodie" changing his appearance was discussed, but was largely unexplainable and left out of official documentation.

The knife in Jeremy Bates' leg was analyzed, but came up with prints that were destroyed beyond recognition. Forensics admitted that the prints looked almost melted, like the suspect had badly burned his hand at some point. Ultimately it didn't help the investigation.

They cross-referenced the story with another, different story that came in across town earlier that evening. A young woman reported a mugging in an alleyway. She said that two figures, a white-skinned teenager and a black-haired boy, appeared and the teenager fought the mugger while the boy warned her to run. Police determined the alley she was during the incident.

They discovered the mutilated corpse of her attacker. Forensics was able to match the blade used in the murder to the one left in Mr. Bates' leg, but beyond that, there were no prints, no conclusive DNA, nothing. Only two pairs of footprints heading towards the location of the fight before vanishing.

The boy, however, gathered some interest after the description perfectly matched the description of the abducted child a few months prior in a Californian park. Once again, dogs couldn't sniff them out except around the location of the fight and, even then, it was like they vanished in thin air. More people from an obscure department called ADMA kept nosing around, asking for leads, but they eventually left after almost 2 months of questioning and investigation.

While still investigating the crime scene, Detective Parker, a simple crime scene photographer, was taking note of some of the witnesses' testimonies. They all agreed that the two were initially just standing and staring at the wall before they came in and started the fight.

Though, the testimony of Carlos Sanchez [Age 11] (aka "Hotwire" on an account of attempted car theft with two cousins) sparked something (once he got past the rambling). "_We got there, and, like, the place was like usual, I mean, our guys would go there and… hang out, y'know. But, it always _smelled_ the same. Don't look at me like that, but it always smelled like mold and car oil and rat crap and weed, but this time it smelled, like, all chemically. Like this one time my cousins were screwing around with some old paint cans. They burned shit, boiled shit, y'know?_"

The record showed that for the sake of getting the rest of the testimony on a more-important murder case, they were willing to overlook the implications of minor crimes of the boy and his relatives to get to the main point. "_Okay, so we get there and the entire place smells like someone was burning paint. It sticks around and it really burns your nose, y'know? There were only those two and they were standing in front of the graffiti wall with some weird-colored smoke coming off of it. No clue why they did that, no clue why that'd happen to a wall, either. After that, we started the fight, but I still got no idea why they'd burn a wall. Now can I go?_"

The minors were sent home, serving no time in Juvie due to their experience with the more dangerous criminal still on the loose and the police department being unable to implicate them directly with any gang activity besides just being there. As it was, they and their houses were watched regularly over the next 12 months in case the psycho ever came back.

He never did.

Mamba and Knives were of-age, so once they recovered they were charged with attempted assault, but got off pretty light considering they were pretty badly wounded and were willing to cooperate in the investigation. They couldn't implicate any of them for any crimes committed by the gang itself at that time and were also watched regularly for the next few months for the mysterious figure in white.

Back at the crime scene, Detective Parker approached the wall. True to the kid's testimony, the wall was coated in layers of graffiti, but looking closer at it, there was a small patch, about 5 inches in diameter, where the paint was gone all the way to the cement. Looking at surrounding art, he could tell that it wasn't intentional and there had been something painted over this, but it looked like the edges had been burned away completely without leaving scorch marks on the cement itself. There were even shriveled shavings of the paint lying curled on the floor beneath it.

What was more, in the exact center of the circle of missing paint was a simple symbol carved or possibly burned into the concrete itself.

He snapped a photo.

* * *

**AN: Now before you go off on me for having Harry kill, remember Naruto? That Inari kid on Naruto's first mission shot a bolt through a guy's head! He was 3/4 Harry's age! Plus, multiple fanfics of Harry have him starting to kill off Death Eaters or do pretty evil/adult stuff at an early age.**

**Just don't replicate this stuff. Creativity, not Reality.**

**It was just necessary for Harry to adapt into the roll/initiate the process of Pasta-dome.**

**This is a work of fiction, any relation to anyone living or dead is completely coincidental. Seriously, I have no idea what gangs are real nor do I know anything about actual gang culture, so please be lenient.**

**I have little to no idea the justice or crime system in New York, so if I overlook some clause that would implicate them further, I apologize.**

**Also, I don't live in New York and have never visited, so if my city layout is incorrect I apologize for that, too. It's based off of my sister's trip there along with some quick google images and some "Castle" episodes.  
**

**I've seen in comments and in PMs that people think the characters are a bit OC; and they're right. The canon characters are just creepypasta monsters. They kill, torture, maim, and laugh while they do it.**

**I don't want just creepypastas. I want people. I want intelligent beings with hopes and fears, dreams and memories. From those that bury memories under cold indifference or permanent smiles (Jeff) to those who hide themselves from pain in silliness and childish exuberance (Toby) to those who protect (Slendy) to those who play (Sally) to those who fear (BEN).**

**As an amateur writer, I can say that it definitely adds a new layer of personality or "soul" to a character to have things beneath the surface.**

**AN: On a lighter note, I just realized, in the Doctor Who episode "The Shakespearean Code", the doctor read the seventh book of Harry Potter where Harry saved the world with Expelliarmus. Then, Shakespeare saved the world with Expelliarmus... coincidence? I think NOT!**

**This conspiracy theory brought to you by:**

**-Crow**

**-The little sister of Crow (current Beta)**

**Extras Alert:**

**I originally had two different methods of murder for Harry. One involving a piano and another possibly going beyond M. If anyone is interested, I'm more than willing to send a PM with the two chapters.**

**Additionally, if anyone is interested in the Extras from the abduction chapter, I still have those on file. So, even if you're new to this story, but still want to read the *Extras*, don't be shy to send a quick PM.**


	14. Murder, Madness, and Mania

**AN:**

**I woke up one morning in my dorm to the song of birds… well, actually, it was the cackling and cawing of crows but the sentiment is still the same.**

**Some were asking about BRVR's pronunciation. I've been pronouncing it "Ber-Ver", though I believe it's supposed to be like a child with poor speech saying "bruver" instead of "Brother". The original pasta cited that as the source of the name.**

**I own nothing.**

**I hope you enjoy! Please review!**

**-Crow**

**P.S. Creativity, not Reality**

* * *

Jeff and Harry appeared suddenly in the "Slender-port" terminal they came from. The older boy walked off the dais unperturbed. It had been a successful mission, he beat the crap out of some bastards who don't understand beauty, and Harry seemed to have a great time!

Speaking of…

He turned around and saw his foster little brother hadn't moved an inch. The little guy was shaking like a leaf and hadn't spoken yet. He cautiously waved his hand in front of the younger boy's face.

*blink*

"Good enough," Jeff decided, "Harry, you should probably change and get washed up, blood starts to itch after a while." That got through and Harry looked down to see he had a few flecks of blood on his shirt and hands. When he hit Black Jack repeatedly, he'd managed to break the skin enough to get some on him. Harry nodded mutely and slowly followed the teen through the woods.

The Mansion appeared through the perpetual fog and Harry was still shambling along. Jeff thought it resembled this one time Toby was having an episode and he sleepwalked the entire house, mumbling about having to do some homework for school tomorrow. As a joke, he and BEN sat the unconscious kid at the table and gave him a pen and a piece of paper.

Toby drew a car with two figures in the front seats.

Then he went to bed. Harry seemed like that now; there, but not "there".

Harry stumbled up the steps of the stairs and eventually reached the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and was suddenly very self-conscious of the tiny red flecks and the dusty, smoggy smell of the city clinging to the fabric.

He took a long shower. A warmer one, too, but everyone was still gone and even then, there were two or three more bathrooms to the Mansion.

He stared at his hands for most of it.

The water was clear all throughout the shower but Harry was sure that the water down the drain was an unending stream of rusty-

Red.

* * *

The day was a blur afterwards.

To Harry, it seemed like a dream… no, more like night paralysis, but the other way around.

He watched as his body moved, but he couldn't control it. Even then, he didn't have much to think or say. It was like every thought was blanked out from his mind and he just sat behind his eyes, watching his body interact loosely with the world around it.

He stepped out of the shower and sat aimlessly in a chair in the parlor. He was sure BRVR must have come by at least once. Eventually, he remembered dinner being served, but either no one was talking or he wasn't listening.

He was willing to bet the latter, because he remembered L.J.'s shrill laugh piercing his mind before he sank below the surface once more.

He remembered Slendy "looking" at him, but he was absolutely positive he didn't ask anything.

The rest was largely blank.

The next moment he was aware of anything, he was in the TV room. It was shortly after dinner from the clock on the VCR. Most of the tenants and guests were crowded around the couch and the smell of popcorn emanated from a large bowl filled with the white, puffy treat in the center of the coffee table. He found a smaller bowl cradled in his lap and filled with the snack as well, but the undisturbed mound indicated he didn't eat it, though from the state of the original bowl and everyone's personal bowls, it looked like the movie had been going on for a while now.

He tried to piece together everything. He couldn't exactly remember what had happened. Why-?

*REV-VV-V-V-V-V-V-V-V!*

He turned towards the telly for the first time since becoming aware of his location. Taking up the entire screen was an image of a woman screaming as she was eviscerated by a madman in a mask with a chainsaw.

His mind slowly dulled over, but before he was completely numbed, he realized that his legs were running on their own up to his room.

* * *

Slenderman was concerned.

Jeff and Harry came back from the kill in New York City a bit later than scheduled, but Jeff explained that they had to take a detour to get to another Symbol.

He had expected Harry to be somewhat quiet after the murder, possibly even shaken, but when the boy came out of his shower, he had a harrowed expression and his eyes were still a vibrant green, but without the gleam of presence behind them.

That was the first sign of worry, the second being that he simply sat in the parlor, staring at the same dull pattern on the carpet for a full hour. His pet, BRVR, sidled up to him a few times, but Harry didn't acknowledge the chirruping sound of the being speaking its name nor the purrs it would make as it nuzzled against him.

Slenderman, the master of stealth and silence, would routinely check up on him over the next hour or so until Timothy called in dinner. He stayed in the shadows and noted as Harry mechanically got up and walked to his spot at the table. Slendy stayed outside notice for another ten minutes, observing Harry interact (or rather, not) with his foster family. He poked at his food and would occasionally eat a carrot slice at Sally's insistence.

When Slender sat at the table, he would discretely watch the ward (which was significantly easier when not having eyes giving it away). He noted Harry was still withdrawn into himself the entire time despite Sally and Toby occasionally talking to him. Even when it was a simple question, he would answer with a shrug or noncommittal noise barely above a choked whisper.

At one point, the Rake told a joke to Laughing Jack and the entity cackled loudly, seeming to startle Harry. It was actually the first sign of awareness in the boy since returning. Though, it didn't last as Harry slowly returned inside himself.

Afterwards, he announced a movie night that night to celebrate Harry's birthday. Partially because it truly was as a fun activity, but also to gauge Harry's reaction as well. The young wizard moved robotically to the TV room with the others.

He offered up a choice of movie, but the answer was a shrug of indifference. He smoothly put it up to a vote and a good Slasher film won in a landslide against Sally's "Pretty Ponies" video (a fact he was, personally, rather pleased with at the time).

The film progressed normally, though Harry was hardly paying attention to the show at all. It got to the part where the slasher has his first kill that things became more interesting.

The masked murderer ran up to a typical, promiscuous girl in her late teens (portrayed by a woman in her mid-to-late 20s) and then promptly gutted her messily by a chainsaw.

He felt a sudden shock of magical energy pass by and turned to see the small form of Harry dash away through the dimly lit room and up the stairs. The other tenants were fine, although BEN was mildly shaken by the brief exposure, and stared after his sudden outburst.

He sent a small IR wavelength to the VCR and paused the movie. Eyeless Jack turned up the lights and I found my wards looking at me expectantly. He turned towards Jeff specifically, "_Jeffery, is there anything that you neglected to mention earlier,_" a hint of steel brushed into his mental voice.

Jeff shook his head adamantly. "No. I mean, he seemed to have a pretty good time earlier today. We just walked around and did some normal tourist stuff for the city. After the job, he was pretty shaken, but he was still talking to me. The only problem started after we hit that gang and-"

"_Wait, 'gang'? You failed to mention this in your earlier report, Jeffery._"

His lidless eyes darted evasively. "Right, well, we were on our way to the closest symbol in a pretty rough neighborhood. We get to this run-down parking garage and I had to use the symbol to clear off the graffiti layer, so we had to wait for it to cool off. Then, next thing I know, I'm being attacked by this gang calling me a 'Diamond' or something.

"I didn't kill anyone, but-" He paused, "Well, this one guy got the jump on me. He wound up pointing a gun to my head until Harry started whaling on him with a pipe. The guy fell off the edge and died. I mean, we didn't check, but he had iron rebar through his brain, so it's a safe bet. Anyway, after that we took the Symbol home."

The entity reviewed the story over twice more in his head, "_Wait, so you came across this group of delinquents?_"

"Right."

"_You fought off how many?_"

"I think it was four that actually fought. One was useless and the other two were off on the sidelines with Harry. They weren't a problem."

"_And only one boy was killed_-"

"Man, actually, he had to be in his early 20s."

"_And he was killed by Harry_."

"That's ri-" Jeff paused, his bleached white skin paling further, the words beginning to process.

Slenderman continued, visibly agitated at this point "_So, Harry became involved in a fight- an unwarranted fight nonetheless- had a hand in first-degree murder, hasn't spoken since, and it never crossed your mind TO TELL SOMEONE?!_" He roared.

Jeff shrunk down silent, staring back at the thoroughly enraged entity. Said being didn't wait for a reply, he'd already teleported up the stairs and hurried along to the youngest ward's room.

He opened the door and felt a cool, summer breeze flow out. Harry was not in the room, but the open window was a good indication of where he went. Standing by the glass, he was just in time to see a figure dart into the tree line ahead.

* * *

Harry sat cross-legged in his usual spot; a large, smoothed stone in the rough center of a normal clearing. Actually, it was a semi-natural clearing. Originally there had been some sparse tree life in the area, but he'd used this spot for practice with his abilities before he was capable of practicing indoors. The mysterious "winds" he'd formed had created whirlpools with him at the epicenter and ripped that vegetation out and only served to clear out more of the space.

Right now, the surviving vegetation was being put to the test.

The winds were approaching almost tornado levels of force. The taller oaks were groaning at the base, a few of the smaller ones were already toppling over like matchsticks. The scraggly vegetation and brush was ripped from the ground and floated around like tumbleweeds. Some of the stones buried in the earth were embedded in trees at the velocity of a bullet.

He found out that when he was upset, his "gift" tended to hurt others. L.J. accidentally let it slip that the first time he came home, distressed from seeing his first murder, he hurt BEN and Smile while also causing he light fixture bursts around the Mansion. The property damage wasn't to distressing, he found out that a lot worse happened routinely around the Mansion even before he arrived, but the fact that he hurt his foster family was reason enough to work on it as far away from others as possible.

'_Breathe in, breathe out, concentrate on the swirling energy looping through my body. I'm on… a cloud. Sure, a cloud works well… or… I'm watering the hydrangea bush at Privet Drive. That was actually rather relaxing, or-'_

_The red hydrangea petals began dripping onto the ground, pooling in the dirt._

_The rivulets of red streamed through the soil, soaking the grass, turning the immaculate green lawn a dry, dead brown. He looked up and saw the blue sky turned crimson and the clouds and sun were completely gone, leaving everything with a consistent red glow._

_A white flake fell onto the dirt in front of him and he looked up to see more drifting down from the sky. One landed on his arm. He brushed it and caused a black streak across his skin._

_Ash._

_He turned around and found #4 Privet Drive engulfed in flames, but the three Dursleys were standing in front of it, not even worrying about their burning property, instead smirking at him, thoroughly amused like a sadist and a kicked puppy._

_Petunia spoke, "Well, boy, how's your _precious_ new life now?" She sneered. "Not enough that you're a complete freak even among more freaks, but a freak who hurts everyone around him and now what? Not just a freak." She leaned in, her grin broadening, relishing every phonetic of the word._

_"A Murderer."_

_The three laughed riotously as they suddenly caught fire and curled into ash residue drifting upwards like paper. The fences of #4 and the house itself followed suit and he found himself in an empty expanse of dead grass under a sea of red sky._

_"Go to Sleeeeeep."_

_Harry whirled around at the raspy whisper. Jeff was stumbling towards him, permanent grin wide and bloody, clutching his side as blood drizzled between his fingers._

_"You shouldn't have done that."_

_Turning ninety degrees, he faced BEN. His eyes were oozing messy black fluid along with blood. His body twitching and spasming like a lagged video feed. The entire right side of his face was distorted and his right eye was destroyed to pixilated blocks of white._

_"Please play with me."_

_Sally came up from behind him. Her eyes glowing green. Her nightgown splashed with blood, but it didn't just come from her head this time._

_"_Harry_."_

_The eight year old turned once more. Slenderman stood solemnly. Jeff, Sally, BEN, and others randomly appearing started encircling him, each sporting a new injury or defect._

_"_I'm sorry Harry._" The entity said._

_Harry looked down at his hands. They were dripping with blood like red gloves._

_"_You did this._"_

_"You did this."_

_"You did this."_

_"You did this."_

_The words repeated around the circle of people, each advancing slowly towards him, reaching out to try to grab him._

_"_I'm sorry it has to come to this._" Slenderman spoke through the murmurs. He drew himself until he was a spindly figure almost 12 feet tall, but hunched and contorted in odd angles. His tentacles served like insect legs on the main abdomen. His blank, white face split into two eyes, both tar black with a red Operator Symbol burning inside, while he opened his jaw and revealed an inky black mouth completely devoid of gums or teeth, but dripping with black saliva._

_Harry's world was engulfed in darkness as each being suddenly converged around him._

_BEN wailed in agony, clutching his head._

_Jeff vomited red._

_Black Jack fell to his death._

_Spread on the ground, pipes running through him, his head suddenly jerked up, ignoring the pipe through it. His glazed eyes stared at him in accusation._

_His mouth opened._

_"Murderer."_

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!"

Harry suddenly found himself standing up, panting for breath. His throat was raw and sore from screaming.

Above him, the moon shone down, but otherwise the entire forest was dark and silent. Well, actually it was almost silent.

The trees around him that survived structurally were glowing with dim, red embers, making small sizzling and cracking sounds. All animal and insect life had long-since fled, self-preservation instincts kicking in to not bother the kid causing a maelstrom.

His heart started slowing down, breathing in the cold summer night air.

"_Harry_."

The young boy turned to see his guardian standing at the edge of the clearing, his white face and undershirt standing out starkly against the black forest around him.

Harry eyed him warily. No grim solemnity. No black tar from an unnatural mouth. No spindly, wiry form. Just the usual 7 or 8 foot Slenderman with a face as blank as paper and an air of normal solemnity.

"Hello, Mr. Slenderman." He replied softly. He sat back down and curled his knees up to his chest.

The being soundlessly approached him. Surprising Harry, he (awkwardly, given his limb proportions) crouched down on an empty space at the now-very-scorched rock.

Ironically, around them, the shorter, slimmer trees that survived had their tops lit like giant birthday candles. They slowly died down and were eventually just emitting a steady, gray wisp of smoke.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the crackling and sizzling of trees. For a moment, the groaning of a larger tree finally collapsing under its weakened weight caught both their attention and they watched it fall with a resounding crash. After it stopped echoing in the darkness, the deafening silence returned.

"_I understand that you had a hand in the… unfortunate accident of someone today._" Slendy began.

Harry nodded, bowing his head in the space between his legs and chest to hide his tearful eyes. The silence returned, more suffocating than before.

"I killed him." Harry whispered. Slenderman was silent. "I _killed_ someone. I am the reason he died."

"_True._" Slender replied, "_But why did you do it, exactly?_"

"I didn't want to!" Harry protested angrily, "I just wanted to… to… _hurt_ him and get him off of Jeff. He would've killed him otherwise. I couldn't just let it happen."

"_You did what you thought was right, Harry. That is what matters. Because of your actions, good or bad, Jeff is still with us. That alone justifies your actions._"

"But I still killed someone. I'm a bad person." Harry rationalized, defeatedly.

"_Not necessarily. That man you killed was encouraging violence, harm, and pain all because of what?_"

"Jeff was wearing a white hoodie."

"_So, he was willing to hurt someone based upon fashion choices. Harry, that is the rationale that encourages Chaos. You helped remove his influence on the Balance of the world-_"

"I don't care!" Harry shouted. "I don't care about the bloody Balance, the Gray, the White, the Dark! I killed him! _I killed him_!"

A ring of fire erupted about a meter's radius around the stone, circling around and starting to grow outwards, threatening to engulf the tree trunks once more.

"I killed him! I killed him. I killed him… I killed him… I…I ki-… I…"

The fire died down along with his passionate speech. Slendy could tell he was losing steam pretty fast, so he put a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him. The eight year old slumped against it like a ragdoll and buried his face into the black suit fabric. A few seconds later, Slendy felt the boy's shoulders jerking uncontrollably.

They sat in silence, save for the sobs of Harry, the smoke from conjured fire stuck around, but was dissipating quickly.

"Why?"

He turned to look down as Harry continued, "Why would you keep a… a _freak_ like me…"

"_You're not a-_"

"Yes I am! Even to all of you, I'm… _abnormal_. _Wrong_. _Dangerous_! You should've just left me!" The boy choked out.

The smell of smoke and the distraught young killer brought back a faint memory in the entity.

"_You know, Toby was in a similar situation._" Slenderman began. Harry's sobs quieted as he listened. "_His tick disorder and lack of tactile sensations branded him as a 'freak' by his peers. They called him 'Ticci Toby' as a result and he grew up isolated and friendless. By human society standards, he was 'abnormal', 'wrong', and after the incident, he certainly became 'dangerous'._

"_When I first encountered him, it was shortly after a car accident that resulted in his sister's death. Of course, that would result in some psychological trauma, but this was… different. I'm not sure why, but I found myself coming back over and over to his house, each time he was slipping further and further into Chaos at an abnormal rate. He saw me a few times, but I wasn't the direct cause of this phenomenon. I never did figure it out, but in my defense his state deteriorated rather quickly._

_"Then, one night I arrived to see him in the kitchen, holding a dripping knife, with his mother terrified on one end of the room and his father dead in his chair._

"_Naturally, he'd never held any compassion for his abusive father. In fact, I'd say he loathed the man completely, but he never thought of killing him. I'm sure he'd contemplated it, but given his background, before he was influenced by his Rage and deteriorating mental health, he would have never killed him outright._

_"He seemed to panic and ran off with his facemask, gloves, goggles, two hatchets, and a small tank of gasoline. He managed to elude the police as far as a nearby forest preserve. There, he used the gasoline to set the entire pine forest ablaze. The entire time, he just stood there, slowly dying from smoke inhalation._

_"I eventually found him and teleported us to a forest a few miles away; one that was not on fire, of course. Afterwards, he gradually became more aware of his surroundings and myself. He laughed at first, claiming this was all a dream, but the smoke clung to him._

_ "He continued denying he'd done it at first, though I believe that burning the forest may have been a method of escape in the first place. Burning away the evidence so it never happened, so to speak. He blamed me, of course, and he blamed some separate personality to him. And then, eventually, he moved on._

_"Now, normally, I believe a human grieving would begin the "bargaining" phase. Bargain with your God, with me, with himself. Give up something in order to reverse the situation. I think he may have considered it for a nanosecond, but I believe he found the "anger" phase to be more meaningful._

_"He spent three hours shouting at me, at phantoms of his dead sister and father, even a rather confusing conversation between himself and that separate personality, both of whom replied to the other using Toby's mouth. He'd dropped the knife he used long before he set the fire, but still had those hatchets of his. He worked off his anger by throwing them at every tree he could find. He even threw a few at me._

_"However, despite his remarkable stamina for rage and adrenaline-induced activity, he wore himself into a complete depressive stage. I took him to the Mansion and he needed an IV Drip after days of not eating, drinking, or moving. I hesitate to say he was comatose, because his eyes were open the entire time. Eventually he developed his… quirky behavior and became much more active. I'm not sure he truly healed from it, but Doctor Halloway wasn't able to help in that regards._"

"S-so my only hope i-is to go 'round the b-bend? Go bonkers? Mad?" Harry sobbed incredulously.

"_No. I want you to know that you are not alone in this situation nor your response._" Harry frowned, unable to retort. He wiped his nose with his sleeve, but Slender purposefully ignored it. "_There are many here who qualify as 'freaks' by the ignorance and fear of humans. They are welcome here. And at the very least you try to contain your abilities from harming others. The Creator knows Jeffery would just chuck a knife if you attempted so much as to change the channel on the television. We are all 'abnormal' here, and likewise we are all 'dangerous' here._"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I-I suppose I am one of the least threatening." He admitted.

"_I seem to recall that one series you received from Toshio… that 'Naruto' comic book-_"

"Manga" Harry corrected automatically.

"_That 'manga', then, features multiple people brutally killing each other with kunai and other rather unsavory methods._" He paused, seeing Harry's astonishment. "_Despite what my brothers believe, I _am_ somewhat 'in' with the times_." Harry bit back a tiny laugh at the image of Slendy reading a manga or watching a cartoon in his spare time. He seemed to notice and explained, "_I skimmed the online summaries after you received them_."

"That's cheating." Harry admonished half-heartedly.

"_Anyway, men and women, old and young, are already killing others. They kill those who threaten their homes and comrades. Who is to say whether this 'Leaf Village' is "good" or "bad" relative to the others' home village. They still kill each other to maintain power balances. To complete missions. To maintain relative peace._"

"So, we're like ninjas?" Harry said quietly.

"_I suppose so. We kill as directed. We kill as necessary. We kill for the Balance._" He stood up from his position and dusted his suit. "_Now, I know you have a lot on your mind right now. So I'll head ba-_"

"The pipe-."

Slenderman tilted his head in confusion at the interruption. Harry continued. "Just one last question. The pipe I used. I threw it at Black Jack's head and then I willed it back to my hand using my Ability. Jeff curved a knife around someone. Does he have my Ability too?"

The entity "frowned" in thought. He'd never considered it. "_Truthfully, I don't know. I know that Jeff is able to control his knives' trajectory even to impossible directions. I know Masky and Hoodie can curve a bullet if need be. Toby can control his axes. He somehow gets them to impact with the target each time even though a hatchet or tomahawk is more proper. I cannot say for certain yet, but I suppose it's possible_." Again, he'd never considered the possibility. He was aware of the unusual abilities some proxy's and wards displayed, but they were never as strong as the young wizard's.

Harry stared at the dimming embers of an oak tree's trunk a while longer before standing up as well. Wordlessly, he followed the figure out of the smoldering clearing and towards the bright lights of the Mansion.

"Mr. Slenderman?"

"_Yes, Harry?_"

"Am I a bad person?"

Slender had a sudden inspirational thought, "_We've all got both Light and Dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to action. That's who we really are_."

He turned to the boy. "_While the action was dark, it was done with selfless intent. You must come to terms with the fact that not everything is as white or black as it seems, but in multiple shades of gray. The Yin and Yang are white and black, but within each is a small bit of the other color. Together, they both make a whole, but individually both have a bit of the other in them._"

Harry nodded quietly and the house lights came into view up ahead. The eight-year-old spoke, "You know, Slendy, what you said before was really deep. Where did you come up with it?"

"_You know, I'm not entirely sure, but I felt compelled that it be said._"

* * *

**=Meanwhile, in an unplottable prison=**

Sirius Black suddenly sat up in his cell, ignoring the chill of the dementors floating around. His ego was absolutely devastated over the intense feeling that someone, somewhere, somehow had stolen his line.

* * *

Harry silently walked upstairs, thinking over the conversation he'd just had. Slenderman's points were good, but it didn't make him feel any better.

Back when he lived with the Dursleys, they would sometimes take him to a large, stone cathedral close by. Vernon knew the pastor and had, twice, attempted to have some kind of "exercise" performed on him. The pastor would always say that he was "not qualified" and Vernon needed someone else to go to, but clearly was unsettled by things Vernon told him.

Harry was sure the man would glare at him whenever he entered and the sermons on days he attended had tended to be along the lines of "Hellspawn", "Devil Worshippers", "the Anti-Christ", and mostly read from a small section towards the end of the Bible called "Revelations". He especially stared at him when he read about something called "the Lake of Fire".

It was all very unnerving, but it did leave the imprint. Sin was bad. People who commit sins go to the Bad Place of fire and pain. Then evil men, women, and children (the pastor would glare at him again) would be sentenced to the Lake of Fire when the world was ending.

Murder counted as one of the main, unforgivable sins.

When he heard his new family murdered on a regular basis, it seemed more distant and, admittedly, noble or cool. Killing an evil cult. Shooting the bad guy. Taking down the monster. It was rather exciting, like in James Bond movies.

Harry had just killed someone at random.

He had murdered.

He had sinned.

He was going to the Lake like the pastor said.

A small wave of nausea gripped his stomach and he felt the meager dinner he'd managed to eat at Sally's prompting threaten to burn his esophagus.

He slowly settled on his bed, when he felt something fall onto his hand. He raised an eyebrow at a small, lumpy but brightly wrapped package on his hand. Blinking, he noticed for the first time that there was actually a small pile of presents next to him, neatly stacked. The stack was disturbed when he sat down and created the indent on the bed.

He smiled and wiped away some tears at his new family's gesture. The one that fell on him was heavy and already tore through part of the paper. Raising an eyebrow at the gleam of metal that shone through, he peeled back the paper.

On the paper was an old hatchet with a wooden base and a leather safeguard for the edge. The blade itself was still razor sharp and the handle was a bit worn with age and use. He felt something in the wood itself and tilted his head to read the word ROGERS engraved in it. Holding it in his hand, he smelled a faint whiff of smoke.

Attached was a card.

_Hey Harry,_

_Here's an old hatchet I had. I heard what happened, so I figured you might want to throw it at some stuff! Worked for me!_

_-Toby_

Harry stared down at the hatchet in his hands, a small smile tugging at his lips. For the spazzy teenager, it was actually pretty thoughtful.

_He only had those two hatchets of his._

Harry's eyes widened as Slenderman's earlier comment echoed back. This wasn't just a hatchet from the store. This was the hatchet Toby had when he'd first come to the Mansion. The hatchet he had when he was in the exact same situation as Harry. It even still smelled like the fire.

The weapon in his hands suddenly felt a lot more meaningful.

He placed it at his side carefully and pulled out another. This one was from Jeff. Opening it, he found an intricate knife and holster. Probably from one of the fancier, more expensive stores out in New Mexico or Arizona. Attached was a note.

_Happy Birthday, Harry. Also, Slendy, I know you're gonna say it. This is NOT a keychain._

_-Jeff_

He gave a choked chuckle remembering earlier that morning. Jeff's gift was actually really great.

He opened a few more. Scalpels from E.J., "Toys" from L.J., a coloring book from Sally.

They were all gifts from his family. The same family comprised of 'freaks' and 'abnormalities'. The same family that welcomed him into their lives. The same family that had killed as he had. The same family that supported him.

And he'd support them back.

"Pika-chu!"

He looked down to see BRVR grinning up at him, a dead sparrow clutched in his mouth. He hopped on the bed and set the tiny corpse in Harry's lap. Harry couldn't help but smile and run his hand affectionately down BRVR's back as the cat-like electric mouse nuzzled against his side.

His door opened and E.J. stuck his head through. "Hey, Harry. Feeling better?" He nodded. "That's good. I see you got my present. I just had to tell you, we got an emergency call from the Council. We're all being deployed, so you may be alone for a while. Just so you know."

He popped back out before harry could reply.

The boy picked up the hatchet, catching a dulled reflection briefly in the metal. His entire family was so devoted to maintaining the Balance.

What better way to support them back?

He stood up abruptly with inspiration and rushed over to his closet.

BRVR jumped around behind him, dodging a pair of flying sneakers, shirts, pants, and one of Widemouth's throwing knives (how Harry got a hold of them again was beyond the living program). Finally, his new-brother Harry jumped up with a triumphant shout.

He quickly shed his current, mud-and-soot-covered clothes and put on a pair of black jeans and a dark gray shirt. He slipped on a pair of black, leather hiking boots and laced them quickly. Finally, he pulled out his dark gray hoodie and slid both arms in it.

He studied himself in his mirror, mouth twisting in thought, "It's missing something…" He murmured.

"Pika!"

The little pokemon hopped into the closet and came back holding a small parcel. Harry removed it and tore off the brown packaging. Inside was the black facemask he'd gotten from Jeff for his first real Christmas.

He slipped the mask on and looked back at the reflection, flipping up his hood. He focused on his eyes and watched as the lenses glowed the same emerald green distinctly underneath the shade of the hood.

"Perfect." His voice was slightly distorted by the mask.

BRVR hopped around excitedly as Harry ran around the room collecting a few final bits and pieces. He put on a pair of black, gloves.

Opening the drawer of his desk, he pocketed a silvery pair of scissors. He stuck Jeff's knife in a holster to his side and Toby's hatchet guard looped around his belt. Picking up a black backpack, the birthday boy rushed down the stairs and picked out a metallic baseball bat from the toybox and a large cleaver from the kitchen before heading through the back tool shed and raiding a pair of sharpened hedgeclippers.

He ran back around to the front porch of the Mansion. The baseball bat stuck out of the top of his backpack and the loose weaponry bounced around in the pouch or at his side.

Reorienting himself, he hurried down the path that Jeff took him to earlier that day. Behind the mask, his face was a massive grin.

"_So, you finally figured it out, huh?"_

_"Dark in Light. Light in Dark. There's balance for you."_

_"I'm so proud of you!"_

_"Maybe we'll have cake afterwards!"_

_"Not now! Important character expositional stuff going on here!"_

_"Oh, sod the 'exposition', there's always time for cake!"_

"_And ice cream?"_

_"Will you lot just focus!"_

Harry mentally told them all to 'shut up' as they began arguing amongst themselves. He was too happy to be bothered right now!

Mulch crunched under his foot as he dodged and ducked under fallen trees or hidden stones. He made a few turns along the criss-crossing paths and he found a clearing of people and beings around a dais.

"Slendy!"

The entity turned around and visibly straightened in genuine surprise. "_Harry! What are- Why are- What on Earth are you wearing?_"

"My outfit!" He announced proudly. He spun in place to show them. For effect, he pushed more energy in his eyes, causing a brief, bright glow.

"Wow! Nice job, Lamp-Eyes." Jeff teased. He flinched at Slendy's sharp "glance" at him, still upset that he'd caused Harry distress in the first place.

"I thought about what you said," Harry began, addressing Slenderman. "I did what I did, but you all still accept me, weirdness and all. I wanted to thank you for your gifts," He gestured to the array at his belt and backpack, "and I want to help! I _can_ help and I'm going to be the greatest help to the Balance ever!"

He straightened himself to his, admittedly tiny, full height, but projected a disproportionate amount of confidence. His foster family smiled back and Sally gestured to a spot between her and BEN. Harry ran over, making sure he was in the markings.

Slender activated the symbol and they started to travel. Although, inside, the faceless being was absolutely relieved. True, Harry did seem to shift rather suddenly (probably more than what's healthy), but overall he took it rather well. This psychological approach seemed much more stable and productive towards the Balance.

They arrived in the middle of a small town currently engulfed in flames. Around them, people were screaming and being mauled by genetic experiments gone horribly wrong.

Large, bipedal pigs wearing the scraggly remains of old armor were shambling around, bits of brain and decay showing through along with bullet holes from previous humans' attempts to deal with the problem.

"Sweet! Zombie Pigmen!" BEN shouted excitedly. Sky-blue pixels shimmered around him and coalesced into a pale blue armor suit and a crude, blocky sword. "I slay thee, foul beasts, and send thee back to the Nether! By the power of Herobrine!" He held his sword up passionately before recklessly jumping feet first into the hordes, hacking away at any that got within arm's length.

The rest began running, jumping, or (for Tim and Brian) teleporting around the hordes, already slashing, shooting, and cleaving the "Pigmen" left and right. All were relaying information to one another. Harry managed to hear something about a "portal" in there, but they moved too quickly.

Slender stayed with Harry for a bit. The younger boy turned to him. "Wait, zombies are real?!"

"_The Council views events like these as threats to society and the Balance. So, yes, we do have to deal with the occasional pest infestation._" A black tentacle shot out and impaled a pigman through the chest without the entity even turning.

Harry eagerly pulled out his baseball bat and the cleaver from his backpack. Slendy's pale hand stopped him. "_Now, are you absolutely sure you'll be alright?_"

"Of course, Slendy." Harry smiled innocently.

Slenderman gave a featureless smile.

"The voices in my head said so."

The entity watched his newest ward run towards the danger, blasting zombies with his powers and already making headway to the obsidian portal constructed just outside the city limits.

He groaned.

"_Good enough._"

* * *

**AN: Harry's not schizophrenic… he's just got a little hairline fracture in his sanity. The "voices" will come and go whenever he's debating with himself over something or we need comic relief.**

**And now; Polls!**

**Please give any suggestions for weapons or a name for Harry's new persona. This will carry over the next 3-4 chapters as we take a break from the main crowd at the Mansion.  
**

**Weapons (thus far)**

**=hatchet**

**=Knives (standard kitchen/utility, throwing knife, impractically-oversized-anime knife, etc.)**

**=Syringe/Scalpels**

**=Razor (Sweney Todd style straight razor, box opener, more elaborate blade?)**

**=Portable buzzsaw or power tool**

**=Something "magical" or "magicked" (a makeshift staff, a magic chainsaw, a magic sword, a magical AK-47, etc.)**

**Possible names/code name/"street" name  
**

**=Dorcha (Dark [Irish])  
**

**=Scath (Shadow [Irish])**

**=Puca (Ghost [Irish])**

**=Glas (Green [Irish])**

**=Tenebris (Dark[Latin])**

**=Erik (Phantom of the Opera)**

**=Casper (after the friendly ghost)**

**=Cain/Kane (Biblical allusion, also the ghost in Poltergeist)**

***Note: This will just be his "Pasta" name, he'll still be Harry Potter.**

**Personally, I'm considering "Scath" or just outright "Shadow" with hatchets and scalpels, but at this point, I don't really know, so I'm open to suggestions, criticisms, or votes.**

**AN: I know Harry's probably taking this way too well, but I'm pretty sure there hasn't been an (ethical) study on an average child's mental state and reaction to committing 1st degree murder… and I'm afraid of being put on a watch list for Googling that.**

**AN: I'm not saying Pastors are evil or hateful towards random children. My mom was Catholic before she married my dad and I've talked to a couple in my life. I'm just saying that Vernon Dursley was involved, so we can probably expect his story to favor his family in the best possible light and try to convince the Pastor that Harry was Satan incarnate or at the very least the Antichrist. Given his prominence in the neighborhood, the Pastor was probably very heavily influenced by him and wary of Harry. Especially if stories circulate about Harry's "odd parents in a cult" and "unnatural occurrences" around Harry.**

* * *

**Alert: I'm so sorry for mis-crediting, but Jeff the Killer and Eyeless Jack do not belong to SnuffBomb, he just did notable voices and stories for them, though he did create L.J. I apologize for the confusion.**

**Jeff: "Jeff the Killer" by unknown, but many credit it to Sesseur**

**E.J.: "Eyeless Jack" by azelf5000**


	15. Shiloh

**Hello readers.**

**I've finally decided to resort to… Original Characters. (I'm so sorry)**

**I needed some others in the story and I've been working on these for the past few weeks.**

**To the anonymous Guest who kept badgering me to update, I apologize, but it has taken me some time as my Beta was rather busy and I also had to balance several important essays, Internship applications, projects, in addition to some personal issues. In other words, Junior Year of college. Ask anyone who's gone and they'll probably tell you it was _the_ sh*ttiest year of them all.**

**To White Squirrel (I really enjoy your fic, by the way), I'm glad you showed concern for going "overboard", but Harry was just a bit overexcited in the moment and pulled out everything he could think of. It was also a chance for me to showcase a few options for people to consider. As for the name, I don't want to include "Harry" in it (like "Harry the Killer" or "Harry the Slasher") because I don't want other people getting too wise to the connection too early… *wink* *wink*.**

**Fair warning for the OC's, I thought a Point of View shift to first person might be more interesting.**

**I apologize for the ultimate sin *electricity crackles as the Forbidden Alchemy Array of OCs glows and Truth begins to disintegrate body***

**Oh, wait! I hope you enjoy, review, and- *zap***

***_silenceeeeeeeeeefavoriteeeeeee*_**

* * *

**...= Shiloh's Story =...  
**

* * *

I sat in my creator's attic.

It wasn't much, but, then again, I didn't really need much.

I had my own bed with a mattress and some blankets if I wanted to pretend I was cold. I had a sewing machine and kit in the corner for rips and tears in me. I had a few dresses my creator gave me. The rest of the space was taken over by my creator. Boxes and boxes of books, clothes, decorations, and miscellaneous took up space up here. But again, I didn't mind.

I owed everything to my creator. He was kind enough to give me life and space, so what was I to ask for more.

My first memory was my creator.

* * *

_I-_

_I-_

_I am._

_There is something above me._

_I perceive sounds from an orifice in a small bulge above a larger part of it._

"_Haha, oh God, it's working… it's moving… Oh, damn what do I say… N-now, I… I am Doctor Costitch… I am your creator… And you… my glorious creation… your name is… Shiloh… yes, Shiloh Costitch… you are my creation… my daughter."_

_I assimilate this._

_I am._

_I am._

_"I am… Shiloh."_

* * *

I did not understand him very well back then, but over time, he supplemented my new memories with knowledge of the English language. He gave names and parameters to emotions I felt. He taught me my own anatomy and how to stitch myself up whenever one of my seams would split.

He showed me how my torso ("chest" as he called it) was hollow and served only as a storage space. I took to keeping spare needles and thread inside of it. I found it exceptionally useful whenever I accidentally tore myself and my creator was too busy to help me up to my room. I lay on the floor for hours the last time my leg caught the umbrella stand.

He gave me clothes and I would admire them as I had been told to. I would put them on as I had been told to. He would take pictures of me in my dresses.

I would never object.

I tried making my own dress using the scraps from old ones and he chastised me for not wearing the ones he'd bought. I liked the dress I'd made, but he burnt it none-the-less and gave me a new one to wear.

I didn't object.

He instructed me on something called "sleeping" whenever he was not with me, in which I lay in my bed (as I am doing now) and stare at the ceiling. I've done that many times and have counted the cracks. My most exciting night was when I found a small creature, a "spider", in the corner, but my creator found it a few days later and squished it against the wall.

Now I just watch a stain.

Anyways, when my creator was awake, I would follow him and he wouldn't object… most of the time.

I observed his habits, but found no need for the items he stored in the cold box in the room with black and white tiles nor the items he derived from the hot box in the same room. I did not need the clear liquid from the silver basin and I was absolutely befuddled by the curious little room with a large porcelain basin, a medium-sized porcelain basin that made an alarming sound when a silver handle was pulled, and a small basin similar to the one in the room with black and white tiles.

I attempted to follow my creator into the room on one of his many visits, but he merely chuckled and explained that I had no digestive tract (whatever that meant) so therefore I had no need for anything in the room.

In fact, he banned me from it.

He banned me from many rooms and doors.

I came to understand the room of porcelain was called "Bath-room" and the room with black and white tiles was called "kih-chen". The room I occupied was called "Attic", but my creator encouraged me to refer to it as "Bed-room". And the room where my creator would run tests and where I first came to be was called the "laboratory".

I had stayed in his laboratory for a few days after my creation, but he moved me up to the attic when he needed the space. He also said that others like him frequently visited and he couldn't risk me being seen.

I didn't object.

Though… one event made me consider it…

One day, I ventured around the familiar hallways and found the door to a room ajar. It was a forbidden room, but a bright light captivated me. It was not a harsh white like the glowing tubes on the ceiling in my creator's laboratory, but a soft yellow-white. I entered and I was awestruck by this… picture in the wall.

It was much like the other picture frames in the hallway and the rooms I was allowed, but this one had _movement_ to it. I saw tall objects out of wood with curious green… papers on the top? The floor looked like it was made black stone or white stone, depending upon which strip of stone I looked at. Around it was a green carpet-like floor. Beyond the black strip of stone was a massive collection of those tall wooden objects, almost creating a solid wall.

I was frightened when a gray object with four black circles rushed by on the black stone floor, but it continued, unaware of my presence.

I stayed in that spot for a few minutes, watching the picture change with the ticking of the wall clock.

Then I saw it.

A blue… thing!

It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before! It looked like two blue pieces of paper with intricate black designs were connected to the center. The papers fluttered quickly and it darted around the picture before landing right on the white, wooden outcrop at the bottom of the glass.

I saw it up close. The blue pieces of paper were connected to a small, black stick with smaller sticks and a curly black thread at the end. Eventually, it removed itself from the picture glass and fluttered, floated away off… to what?

"SHILOH!"

My creator was not pleased that day. He saw the door was opened and found me at the picture. He took me away from it and I distinctly remember him labeling it "Win-Dow". He forbade me from being by one ever again.

I obeyed… though I felt a slight irritation or objection…

I was sent to my attic that night. I did not come out for some time and when I did I discovered that the forbidden rooms now had many, many locks on its door.

My creator insisted upon simpler games to play. Games that were inside. I obeyed his instructions to play with curious dolls, though I simply made them amble around the small, wooden house and my creator seemed to approve. I saw no point, but he was happy.

The games in his laboratory were not as fun.

He would take sharp objects and rip apart my skin. Then, instruct me to sew it back on. He would remove the white, fibrous substance within me and examine its effects. He would remove one of my eyes and examine how I made the fibrous substance attach to it.

It didn't "hurt" as he had asked frequently, but it was still uncomfortable.

I was grateful when those games were over, though I always knew more would be on the way. If my "skin" had too many stitches, incisions, or patches I would remove it and sew on a new one while I repaired the old skin, weave by weave.

I found that the fabric and threads that made me were able to be manipulated. I could move a threaded needle delicately through a weave without touching either. I could connect two tiny fibers of my "skin" together with some time and concentration.

My creator ran many tests on this. He was always excited by them.

However, I found for the past few weeks he has not had me do much of anything. So, I've been "sleeping" for all this time. I'll admit it was not entertaining in the slightest. In fact, it was rather painful in how boring it was.

However, something new happened.

Earlier today, there were loud noises from beyond the walls in my attic space.

Unknown to my creator, but one day I'd discovered a hole in the wall of my attic. It was blocked on the other side by a black panel of slate that I knew better than to ask my creator about. I discovered I could push the panel out of the way and see the same image the "Win-Dow" gave me, though from higher up.

It was a disobedience… but one I had no reservations about simply not telling him. After all, it was not technically a "Win-Dow" nor was it a forbidden room.

That day, I looked out my hole and saw a large object with many black rotating circles like the one that had frightened me, but this one was much larger, noisier, and had a large, white box which opened in the back with a clatter. Many beings like my creator, but louder and bigger were lifting objects into my creator's house shortly followed by other creator-beings entering the house.

There was a tall creator who seemed to be the leader of the group. Next to him was a person similar to myself, long hair and breasts that were larger than my creator's. I never quite understood that or the differences. My creator insisted that it would matter, but I never bothered with it much… perhaps it had to do with that curious room with porcelain basins…

Anyways, besides those two adult creator-like people were two smaller-creator-people. A creator-being who looked like the long-haired creator-being; shorter than my creator with softer skin and a smaller chest. She spoke adamantly into a curious, pink device. And there was also the tiny creator with short hair.

I remember my creator saying something about himself being called a "human", something that I am not. He said he was a "man" and showed an image of someone called "wife" which he said was a "wo-man".

He explained how "wife" was a "wo-man" who would be with the "man".

From that, I deduced that the tall creator- er, "human" was a "man" while the long-haired human was his "wife", a "woman". The two smaller beings were confusing, but the smaller one was probably a small "man" and the small creator with the pink device must be a slightly smaller "woman". Though, I found myself unconvinced they were a "husband" and "wife".

I'm not sure what it all means. There was a lot of noise below and talking, but I stayed "sleeping" on my mattress. I did not know what to do, but I was confident my creator would know and he would come get me.

Eventually.

Time continued on and I waited in my creator's attic. The voices and shuffling had long-since stopped and the house was once again silent. I guessed they must be "sleeping" as well, or perhaps gone.

*creak*

I did not move, but I was surprised to hear the creaking sound from across the way. The door from the stairway to my attic was shifting open! My creator returned!

A beam of light came from the opening and I kept my head still, not wanting to disobey my creator's instruction to keep "sleeping" until he came to wake me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the white beam flit around the attic space and eventually land on myself.

I heard a soft gasp.

Internally, I frowned.

This was not my creator, his voice was too high.

I turned my head and looked straight at the human holding the beam of light. It was the small man.

"AAAUUUGGHH! SIS!" The creator-being ran from the room and down the stairs. I was slightly miffed. My creator never let _me_ run in the house.

I returned my head to its original position. At least it was new from just staring up at the ceiling all day.

Within a few minutes I heard the thumping of feet. The short-haired small creator brought along the long-haired small creator. She sighed and her voiced drifted up the stairs. "Seriously, Matt, if this is some stupid prank-"

"It's not!" The short-haired creator, 'Matt', defended. "It moved, Sis!"

"Ugh. Mom and Dad are gone for tonight can I just babysit you without the 'dead woman in mom and dad's closet'?"

"It's nothing like that time!"

The long-haired creator 'Sis' scoffed. "Whatever. Okay, so what am I looking at?"

The beam of light from a flashlight flitted around the attic space before eventually landing on me. I heard Sis gasp and the floorboards creaked as she got closer to my mattress. "Oh. My. God. What is that thing doing here?"

"Don't get close." Matt whimpered behind one of my creator's "X-Mas" boxes.

Sis apparently did not hear him and kept creeping forward. "So, the freaky guy who owned the place before had a life-sized teenage girl doll in his attic. Oh, Jesus, it has its own bed too! That is just f*cked up."

"Sis, language."

"Aw, shut up. I was making popcorn and getting the movie ready and you were the one who got freaked out by this… thing and dragged me up here."

"B-but it moved."

"Yeah, right. That old guy was just some crazy frootloop with some weird tastes or something, I dunno. He didn't have any kids or relatives, so that's why we got everything when he kicked it. Just… don't touch it. God knows what that old creep did with it." She shuddered.

She picked up an old, dusty blanket and threw it over me. "There, out of sight, out of mind. We'll deal with it when we get rid of all this shit up here. C'mon."

Sis took Matt by the hand and closed the attic door, repeatedly telling him that there was no reason to be a "baby", whatever that was.

I slowly got up, the blanket falling off of me, curious at this new development. My creator would be upset if he knew I was leaving my room.

_But does he need to know?_

My face contorted into an odd quirk where my lips moved upwards. I was so bored here and my creator didn't seem to care, he would've checked up on me by now.

I slowly sat up and swung my feet over the bed. I slowly got up and stood before carefully padding over to the attic door.

I descended the steps, one at a time, sure that my creator would find me and punish me, but for some reason, I found this the most enjoyable thing I'd done yet! It felt… _exciting_!

I heard muffled voices from down the hall and backed into a shady corner.

"Come on, Matt, let's pop the movie in." Sis called to him. The Matt human ran from one of the forbidden rooms and down the stairs to the main level. I quietly followed them to a not-forbidden room. This was what my creator called a "study". There were still bookshelves full of books she was forbidden from looking at even though he'd taught her to read as an experiment on "symbol recognition" and the "fire-place" embedded in the wall was empty of its usual artificially flaming log.

Though, what caught her attention were new items. Brown boxes, like the ones in her attic were all around and the open ones held her creator's books and journals. There was a large chair that seemed stretched, I remember my creator calling it a "sofa", although his was in another room.

The main object in the room was a flat, black device with a large pane of black glass and cables out of it to the wall. Sis sat down with a bowl of fluffy, white… bits covered in yellow liquid that she would put in an orifice in her face, her "mouth" if I recalled correctly. She picked up a black rectangle and pressed one of the many buttons on it.

A gasp almost escaped as the black glass lit up with bright colors. Sis pushed more buttons and there was a whirring sound before the glass lit up with more colors, but distinct and with sound. A pretty arrangement of sounds at different pitches filled the room… I believe my creator called it "music" once, but hadn't given me any to listen to before.

I silently crept so I was behind a curtain. I could see the glowing device, but I was confident it was out of the sight of Sis and Matt.

To my amazement, the glass began showing a wooden scene with intricate carvings around it with blue letters with the occasional red letter making names and words. In the background was a voice singing a bright song.

I clung to every word, "_When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, anything your heart desires will come to you. If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme, when you wish upon a star, as dreamers do._"

What are dreams? What is a star? I'd seen my creator show images of the geometric shape during lessons, but I couldn't imagine people wishing on something so simple. It sounded like something more.

More voices followed, singing that same song. It suddenly opened on an image of a desktop with old books, glasses, and a small spotlight. Suddenly, the spotlight shifted to a tiny creature in a blue hat singing the song from the opening.

The story went on, showing beautiful lights in a black sky. A small village. An amazing shop of toys and mechanisms. The plotline became more grand; with puppets and fairies and consciences and talking cats and foxes. I couldn't stop watching.

Eventually, there was a small scene with a stage with a red curtain. The puppet-small-man danced and sang, but the lyrics caught my attention the most.

"_I've got no strings to hold me down, to make me fret, or make me frown, I had strings, but now I'm free, there are no strings on me!"_

Such notions. What does "free" mean? What does he mean about strings holding him down? But most of all, why did I feel so… longing as I heard that song?

The glass continued to show the story. In the end, the puppet boy somehow became a "real boy" with a lot of sparkles, presumably from the fairy. As the glass began showing names again, Sis took Matt upstairs to bed and cleaned up the popcorn.

I stood still, hoping she wouldn't-

"Aiiieee!"

What was that word my creator told me not to use? Frick? Truck?

He said it once when he burned his hand on a hot beaker.

Either way, it felt appropriate at this time.

Sis shrieked as she saw me in the corner of the room. I didn't move anything, even my glass eyes, for fear of a further reaction.

She just kept cleaning, casting side-long glances at me from time to time while muttering, "Matt did it. Yeah, of course, I zoned out during that whole 'Monstro' thing. He must've gone upstairs and brought it down to scare me. Yeah, 'course he did."

Eventually, she turned off the lights and, with one final glare at me, fled up to her room. I heard a faint click indicating the locks were active.

I slowly began to move again, careful not to make any noise against creaky floorboards. I looked around the room, feeling this curious 'buzzing' sensation in my main abdominal region. I felt similar whenever my creator would offer to show me something new. I believe he called it "excitement".

This was against the rules, but it was _so_ interesting!

I crept across the room to the bookcase. Inside, I recognized a few very large books that my creator would give me. They would have thousands of words, pictures, and explanations for me to learn from.

If he wasn't here, he wouldn't mind if…

I opened the glass casing and pulled out the "Dictionary", "Grey's Anatomy", and the two "Encyclopedias" from the shelf. With my stolen knowledge in hand, I crept up the stairs to my "Bed-room". I did not need much light and even then, my eyes cast a dim glow that I used to decipher the pages.

Internally, I felt "giddy" (as the "Dictionary" later told me). It was so adventurous and exciting to do this! To be able to have my own decisions…

Speaking of…

I glanced down at the yellow dress I'd been wearing since my creator last gave it to me. The time my creator was gone had caused it to begin to fray and rip. Despite creating me with such careful finesse, he did not have the same sewing skills with normal fabric.

I took out a small repairs kit my creator left for me and selected a needle and some thread. The rest of the night was spent stitching together patchwork dresses to my heart's content and reading from the forbidden books.

I learned that the young, small creator person was called a "boy" while the taller, young creator person was a "girl" or "teen" (given age differences). The encyclopedias and anatomy text helped clarify the difference. I was right, though, about the porcelain room pertaining to it.

Some time passed, I'd reread the dictionary to the "Q" section, when I heard a few people coming up the stairs. I quickly hid my books and slumped to a neutral position on the floor.

Sis walked up with her parents (another word I'd learned in the dictionary). The girl flipped on the lights and walked over to my bed.

"Okay, mom, dad, just hear me out. There's this freaky- where'd it go?" She searched my bed, pulling off covers and looking underneath, not noticing me. "No, that's crazy. The stupid thing was right- Augh!"

She shrieked when she finally laid eyes on me, pointing mutely at my limp form. The parents followed her gaze and looked uneasily at me. "There! See?! It moved! And changed! It was wearing some yellow sundress earlier!"

I did not react to her shrill voice… as much as it irked me, I have to admit.

"Calm down, calm down, sweetie," The older female said quietly. I learned she was called "mother". "Matt's probably just playing a prank again, okay? It's just a doll. It can't hurt you. See?"

She walked straight up to me. I found my ability to stay still was being fought by a nervous urge to twitch as she came closer and closer.

She stuck a slender finger at my temple and tapped. "Huh. This thing has a wooden head or something…" She murmured. The woman then took my arm and felt through my "flesh" and prodded my arm "bones". "Oh, wow! Honey, look! This thing even has wooden bones in it!"

The adult male, "father", came over and also pressed my arm, feeling the "bone" underneath.

"Ugh! Gross! Don't touch it!" Squealed Sis. Mother seemed to grimace in realization and stopped touching before wiping her hand on her jeans.

Father straightened as well, frowning at me. "Well, personally I think it's pretty cool-"

"Noooo." Sis whined, "_Please_ take it away from here. It's just so… so _creepy_."

Father snickered, "Well, pumpkin, if you can find someone who's willing to take an life-sized 18-year-old doll, then we can. I'm not sure we can just toss this in the trash can without being reported by neighbors."

They continued to debate, ultimately deciding on nothing and leaving me for the night.

I sat in my spot, contemplating the interaction. There was so much to it. "Pumpkin"? Where did gourds come into play here? What does "reported" mean and why would I be for being in this… 'trash can'? Who are the "neighbors"?

I reread the dictionary, intent on finding out as much as I was able from this new context.

* * *

Time moved on. As it did, I seemed to fall to the wayside. On occasion, I would sit by the ventilation system and listen to the conversations going on downstairs echoing through the metal ducts. It seemed they were always busy with "work", "school", "home work", "community projects", "church", and they were still "moving in" at the same time.

I didn't mind, I had a new spider in the rafters! It was so entertaining during "sleep".

Over the weeks, I found that for five days a week, the family would all be out of the house to "school", to "jobs", and to "errands" for Mother. During those times I would explore this house, enjoying seeing places closed off before.

I discovered the porcelain Bathroom was ultimately unhelpful and possibly dangerous. All three basins distributed a clear liquid compound called "water" (as the dictionary told me) that made my hand cold, soggy, and uncomfortable until it dried off. My curiosity was satisfied rather quickly. If all this room did was produce "water" to get me wet, then I didn't want anything to do with it.

The Kitchen was similarly unhelpful. I determined that the cold-box was a "refrigerator" for storing sustenance while the hot-box was an "oven" for preparing sustenance. It seemed very paradoxal; waste energy cooling the food and then waste energy heating it back up. Why not just keep it at room temperature all the time? However, I found that it was largely useless to consume this "food" as my body didn't have a system to adequately digest this material (understood from "Gray's Anatomy"). I ended up picking it out of my abdomen stuffing a few hours later.

However, I discovered some "textbooks" from Sis, or 'Megan' as I'd heard Mother call her once. They were a fascinating source of material, though far above my understanding. I also discovered how to operate the glowing display and would observe human interactions through interesting displays called "Oprah" and "Doctor Phil". I didn't quite understand what was so interesting, but it seemed entertaining.

Similarly, I had to refer to Grey's Anatomy twice (ultimately unhelpful) for why those men were so ecstatic when they heard they were "not the father".

I largely kept to myself during the evening and night hours rather than risk being discovered, though Matt still came up twice more to shine a light on me and talk, trying to get me to move. It was a fun game. He would shout, trying to provoke me, but I would stay still nonetheless until he finally left or was called down by Mother.

I liked that game.

Even though he looked very scared while playing it.

* * *

Today was fascinating!

Everyone was out and I entered Sis's room, interested in finding another textbook, but I found something much more interesting. On Sis's desk was a device that unfolds like a book, but has a large array of buttons on one side and a dark display above like the glowing glass.

I pressed one of the buttons and the device whirred to life.

I watched the display light up and small images move around into a 2x2 square above the text "starting up" for a few minutes before the display changed. It had a small box that required a 'password'.

I didn't know what that meant, but upon touching the "screen", an electrical spark connected with my hand and my mind was bombarded by lines of 1's and 0's and text. Disconnecting from the machine, I saw the screen was become distorted with the same text scrolling down the screen that I saw in my mind before a small image appeared saying "password accepted". The screen vanished and displayed a colorful background with several "icons".

I was shaken by the image I saw. It was startling to say the least, though it still wasn't "painful". It was more like a dull spasm or "ache" behind my eye apparatus.

After some time, I overcame my reservations and slowly approached the device once more. I was careful not to touch the screen again, but found the array of buttons and the small device attached by a chord safe to touch.

I nudged the small object on the chord and saw the screen move a tiny, white arrow in response. I cautiously continued and watched the arrow's progress across the display. When I stopped, I finally noticed a rather large image on the display. This image took up half of the screen and was filled with text.

I yelped in surprise when I nudged a small "bump" on the small object and caused the image to "jump". Repeating it, I discovered it was a way to move the text to continue reading.

Curiosity got the better of me.

I read.

* * *

_Okay, so my name is Megan. I guess I'm on this forum because of some bats**t Paranormal-Activity-level creepiness in our new house and, apparently, my friend told me this was the best place to post this story._

_So, my family moved into this house about a month ago. The guy before died suddenly and without any family, so we got stuck with all of his furniture, but at a really cheap price. Or at least most of the furniture, he did lab work here and his equipment was confiscated by some University or something, but we did get the old beds, sofas, fridge, and stuff._

_So, the house itself is pretty okay, it's situated in a pretty remote neighborhood close to the more rural parts of this place. The houses are stationed a bit apart from each other and the backyard opens to the forest tree line._

_The first night, my parents had to rush out to the moving company because a truckload of stuff got redirected to a warehouse. That left me and my little brother alone for a couple of hours. The movers were quick and we got a lot of stuff set up and moved around, including the TV and sofa. Just the thing to keep him occupied, right? I'm not a great babysitter, but cut me some slack I wasn't bad._

_Anyways, I went into the kitchen to make some popcorn and Matt decided it was as good a time as any to explore around. Next thing I know, he comes running down the stairs, screaming about "something in the attic"._

_He dragged me up there with a flashlight and when we got there, it was what you'd expect in an attic; dusty with the faint smell of mildew and lots of boxes._

_Anyway, he brought me over to this one secluded spot in the corner of the attic. I kid you not, there was a _doll_ there. A freaking doll!_

_But not like a nice china doll that got stowed away for safekeeping. It was this freaky stitched up life-sized 19-year-old ragdoll in a creepy, yellow sundress lying on a _bed_ like it was asleep! And there was other stuff there too like some f**ked up imitation of a teenager's room._

_It had a dresser, there were dresses on hooks, the bed had a comforter and sheets; there was a f**king _toy doll house_ for f**k's sake!_

_The little troll kept screaming at me that it moved and not to touch it. God, why would I touch it? It was from some creepy loner._

_The thing was really freaking me out, but I didn't believe him when he said it moved. I mean, it was just some stupid doll. Right?_

_Anyways, eventually I got him back downstairs and we watched our movie, Disney's _Pinocchio_ to be specific. Then, Matt went upstairs to go to bed and I was left downstairs. I turn around and THAT FREAKING DOLL IS BEHIND THE COUCH!_

_I'm not saying, like, it was tossed there, I mean it was positioned so it was facing the screen. I convinced myself it was just something Matt did while I was distracted by the movie, but the next morning it was gone!_

_I know my brother and he may pull a prank, but he would never sacrifice his "valuable sleep" over it, let alone get up before I do (6:30 to make it to the bus stop) just to have a kick._

_I bring my parents up next and the damn thing moved _again!_ This time, it was wearing a different outfit that no one made! I am seriously freaking out about this!_

_We can't get rid of it because we can't exactly throw away some weird sex doll in a garbage bin. The neighborhood would be bringing it up and ruining my chances with this new place._

_Anyways, I haven't seen it recently. I think it's still sticking around the attic, but sometimes I notice things _moving_ around the house when we're away or I swear the TV stations change. My textbooks keep disappearing if I leave them here and reappear the next day on my bed (and I know that I couldn't have missed it)._

_One time, I found a half-made omelet with weird stuff in it _and my mom asked if I made it!_ Seriously, why would I make an omelet with potato skins and pickles in it?!_

_But I know my brother didn't cook it because he was at school and band practice afterwards. My dad was gone at work and my mom asked _me_._

_That just leaves that freaky doll and I really need solutions, please! I've been locking my door at night._

_…_

_When I was writing this, I heard something go *thump* upstairs._

_Please help me._

* * *

I read the entry and was curious about the bit with food. I made an omelet using whatever I found and the glowing display once had a show where they cooked a fluffy omelet using red, pink, and green bits. So, naturally, I searched the cold-box fridge and used red bits from a lumpy vegetable called the "potato", some pink-ish raw beef in the freezer, and green pickles all in a yellow mix of eggs. With the shells, too!

I found it was intriguing and entertaining to watch it cook even if I couldn't eat it. I ended up leaving it on the stovetop after turning it off. I was saddened that they didn't find it appetizing, but I decided to try again some other day.

Out of interest, I looked further down. It seemed there were other people who wrote text in response to hers.

_"Get an exorcist on the line!"_

_"Fake!"_

_"Your mother is a ************-ing ********* Lorem Ipsum **** agminiun venium ******-"_

I was startled by the random pointlessness of that comment as well as its crude language. Along with its lack of context.

_"This story's totally fake."_

_"No way, dude! You should totally give this person a call."_

_"Burn it! Cleanse it with fire!"_

_"I agree with the above; burn it!"_

_"Put it at the crossroads at dusk."_

_"Careful, it's seen the movie. *There are no strings on me* ;) "_

_"Where do you live?"_

_"I'd totally buy it off of you."_

_"Lame story."_

I was confused by all of this. I was not dangerous. I saw no reason to kill me. Yet everyone on this forum seems to be in agreement that I am either not real or that Sis should take action to see that I am removed.

I only wanted to help them. I only wanted them to approve.

I wanted them to accept me. I was getting tired of sitting in the attic all day while they were enjoying each other's company.

I wanted that company, too.

Was that too much to ask? I'd never asked for much with my creator. Is it actually a lot to ask for?

My eyes wandered a bit around the room. It was blaringly pink, but a few odd trinkets were on the bookshelf. I walked over and picked it up.

It was a simple cardboard cutout picture frame with an image of a small Sis with some missing teeth next to a much younger Mother. Above it was "FAMILY" in big, blocky letters glued to the structure.

Family.

_"A unit of beings consisting of parent(s) and child(ren) living together in one shelter."_

That was a generic interpretation of the word "family". Human or inhuman. Guardian or parent.

What was I to them? A parent? No. That was solely Mother, Father, and my Creator (wherever he may be). I must be one of the children, then. Right?

Children...

Adolescent…

"_A premature form of the species._"

I suppose that's where I fall short. I am neither a species nor am I "premature", as 18 constitutes legal status (according to those exciting crime shows on the display). I appear to be 18 and though I don't age, I recall 18 "birth days" my creator threw over the years that I was with him. Therefore, I must be 18 years old.

Still… what was I to a family? I am not an "aunt" as I have no relation to the parental figures. A "cousin", perhaps?

I wanted more, though.

In my first moments of awareness my creator called me his daughter-

Daughter.

"_A female in relation to parent figures_."

I was a "daughter" to my creator…

My creator was a parent…

A parent is a family…

A family is… them.

I am a daughter.

I am part of it!

I'm part of the family!

I must be!

They just didn't know it yet!

My face split into an enormous smile of joy at the realization. They just needed to know! They needed to know how much I care about them and then they'll see how much they care about me!

It was so simple!

Pleased by my decision, I went back up to my attic and began to work.

* * *

I watched in secret as the family- _my_ family- got home after a "day out". Matt was exclaiming about something called a "Theme Park". While I was unclear exactly what that was, I knew it was a perfect opportunity for my plan!

With everyone away, I carefully placed their gifts on the table. These gifts would show my inclusion. My desire to be included. They would be grateful and form stronger bonds which would lead to my inclusion as another daughter to Mother and Father. A sister to Sis and Matt.

An added bonus was it would prevent them from "cleansing me with fire".

The family of four arrived, still smiling from their day. They started muttering in confusion as they found the gifts. Mother whispered to Father who shook his head in confusion. They cautiously approached the boxes and Matt opened them.

They pulled out my sewing first. It was a simple, cloth heart I made from the remains of a red dress I had. I would have put lace on the outside, but I didn't have enough at hand.

The second gift was a picture by me! It had the five of us; Mother, Father, Sis, Matt, and myself in what I imagined the house's exterior looked like with "FAMILY" written at the top. I was proud of it, even though my artistic skills left something to be desired.

The third was another picture. It had the house in a general shape with the four of them on the first floor and myself inside the triangle representing the attic. Everyone was smiling.

Though, at the table, no one was. Mother looked faint. Father's hands shook with fearful confusion. Matt was whimpering. Sis was murmuring expletives under her breath.

Finally, they opened my final gift. Sis gasped as she recognized her camera. I wrote a simple note; _For your story_. She read the note and turned the camera on before immediately pressing some buttons to examine the photos taken.

She stared for a long time.

I remember that picture. It was difficult to get the timing right. I had to delete many of them to get just the right view. It depicted me sitting in my dress on my small cot and mattress in the attic staring passively at the camera (set a few feet away on an auto-timer), a white flash illuminating the surroundings.

The family looked up at the ceiling fearfully before Father told them all to get to the "car". They all complied as Father continued looking upwards.

I made my way quietly up the stairs and settled back into my bed in time for Father to arrive and see me lying there.

He had one of the shiny knives from the kitchen in his hand. I was intrigued what he would do with it. He cautiously approached me, tense but I didn't move. It was a fun game! Maybe it was part of how I became a daughter? Maybe-

Suddenly, he plunged the knife into my abdomen. It didn't feel painful, but it was… curious? I'd never really thought of it before, but I was determined not to lose the game. I stayed still.

He dragged the knife through my stomach and pried my skin apart.

He began chuckling slowly and then it gradually got louder until he was almost doubled over.

"S-s-stuffing! Haha! Of course, it's just a doll full of fluff!" He said to himself between hysterics, pulling out a bit of it to examine before letting it drop back in the wound. He walked away, chuckling hollowly, not even bothering to put myself back together.

How rude.

Using my hand to clamp my skin together, I pulled out my sewing kit from my chest and manipulated the threaded needles to stitch the wound. Oh well, he seemed to be… tense. Perhaps it just wasn't a good time to join the family.

A few minutes later, sirens and red and blue lights gathered around the house. I was so excited! Police! Real policemen! Just like CSI!

Men and women in blue uniforms walked around the house, taking pictures of my gifts and putting them in plastic bags. I was a bit incensed, but was pleased when I heard they would be "dusting for prints". It was exciting! They would put on that special dust and look at it under fancy lights in the labs so unlike my Creator's.

They arrived to my attic, but I stayed still. I realized I had "contaminated evidence", so before they walked up, I reluctantly removed the stitching in my abdomen. They took pictures of me, but didn't end up taking me "downtown". I was slightly miffed about that. I was already practicing my "alibi" and "my rights to remain silent" and such for when they put me in handcuffs.

Afterwards, everyone but two officers left. The remaining two had a conversation about "someone else must be in the house", but that was ridiculous! It was just Mother, Father, Matt, Sis, and me! I would know if someone else was here.

* * *

About a week later, they returned to the house from a "motel" after the police assured them it was safe. One day while they were out, I found Sis's story again. I was so pleased! The incident with the gifts was talked about again and supplemented by my photograph.

There were more comments and almost none of them were claiming it was fake.

I was pleased for Sis. Obviously, they must like her story.

One step closer to being accepted.

…

Right?

* * *

It was another day when everyone was out. I activated the display (which I came to discover was called the "Tee Vee"), but was disappointed when the crime shows and Oprah were not showing. However, I decided to try to branch out and look at two channels called "History" and "News".

* * *

How horrible.

How absolutely horrifying.

I lay in my bed that night, staring at the spider in the rafters quietly spinning a web. However, my mind was not on the spider, instead I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen.

What I'd witnessed.

Crime.

Murder.

Weather changes.

Starvation.

Disease.

Pollution.

However, the History told me about "War". It shook me.

Why would they go through such long, bloody wars? Why would they sacrifice life for it? Why would so many innocents have to die?

The image of the towering mushroom cloud rose to mind.

So many.

These humans were so… horrifying. I was not human… I was not…

It depressed me before just on the principal that it seemed unattainable, but now… I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be human at all. If I were human, would I want to wage wars as well? If I were human, would I hurt the trees outside? If I were human…

But I'm not human.

…

"When… you wish… upon a star…" I sang to myself quietly. My voice was severely disused and awkward. "Makes… no difference… who you are…"

The puppet-boy, Pinocchio, was like me. A creation made of inanimate objects somehow given life.

"Anything… your heart… desires…"

Did he hurt others afterwards? Did he wage war? Did he destroy others?

"Will… come… to… you…"

When he became a real boy… when he became human… did he hurt? Did he hurt others?

Are all humans harmful to each other?

Are my humans?

No. It couldn't be. Mother, Father, Sis, and Matt are all such wonderful people. They may do… questionable things from time to time, but they don't seem evil. They don't hurt others.

They shouldn't hurt others… do they?

*CRASH!*

I was startled out of my thoughts. It was dark, very dark, and no one would be up by then. I stayed silent as I strained my ears to hear more.

From the murmuring I heard below me, I guessed Mother and Father heard it as well. A few minutes passed and I grew impatient.

Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion below. Someone new was shouting loudly while I could hear Mother crying. Several more crashes were heard as well as some grunting and yelling. Then, it went mostly silent save for some murmuring bleeding through the house.

I tiptoed downstairs to see what exactly had happened.

An unknown man was standing in the Living Room with a crowbar in one hand. Furniture had been upturned and broken. The coffee table's glass top was smashed. Mother was in the kitchen shielding Matt and Sis from the intruder.

Father was leaning against a wall, his head was leaking a bright red blood from a bump on his forehead, but he was still groaning and shifting. It unnerved me. Crime Tee Vee was much less… _real_ than the blood now splattered across his face and the wall.

The man pulled out a shiny, black object and pointed it directly at Mother. A gun! He told them to get in the Living room and stay in a corner spot

Mother, Sis, and Matt all slowly walked to the corner, not taking their eyes off of the sleek, black gun. The man addressed them, "Now, that everybody here? Kay? No one else in the house."

I assessed this. This was my chance! My chance to join and help!

"No, I'm here." I answered calmly.

Mother gasped as I showed myself. The only light came from the faint streetlight through the window, so my shadow was in front of me, silhouetting my figure. The man pointed the weapon at me and motioned the end of it towards the corner with Matt and Sis.

I considered this, but had another possibility. I am not human. A human would probably fight the unknown man like Father did. However, I cannot help if I am in a corner with Mother, Sis, and Matt. I will try a new way. My own way.

"My name is Shiloh, what's yours?"

The man's face scrunched in confusion. "What the hell? Look, doll, just get in the f*cking corner, alright?" Doll. How ironic.

"Why?"

"Because I've got a gun pointed at you and I'm robbing the place."

"Why?"

"What are you, retarded?! Because I need the money!"

"Why?" That wasn't to annoy him. That was an honest question. What is the purpose of money, aside from something people murder for during will readings or steal and hide in vaults? I was curious.

"Because… because… I just do! Debts! Gambling! Sex! Drugs! I don't care! Now get in the f*cking corner!"

"Why?"

*BANG!*

I stumbled a bit as I feel something suddenly hit me in my abdomen. I looked down and see a hole through my chest, a small bit of stuffing burnt from the heat of the bullet. It actually felt… unpleasant.

I looked back at the man, "That was not nice."

The robber looked between me and the object in his hand and at the wound in my chest letting light from behind pass through. He leaned over slowly, the gleaming gun still pointed at me and flipped on the kitchen light.

"OH MY GOD!" Mother screamed.

Father was awake and staring at me, mumbling about "stuffing" and "not alive". Sis and Matt were holding each other protectively, both staring at me apprehensively.

The man looked at the hole in my chest and his eyes drifted between my stitches. In one swift motion, he yanked Matt out of Sis's arms and pointed the gun to his head. Mother was sobbing as was Sis. Father was too dazed.

Matt would die. What a horrible man. What a horrible… _human_.

"Now listen here, freak. Just get in the corner and no one gets hurt. Understand?" His hand trembled dangerously. I discretely moved several threads along the floor towards him.

"You are a danger to Matt." I stated. "Guns are dangerous. I can't allow that."

"Wha-?"

The threads suddenly tightened and the gun hammer jammed before the entire thing was ripped from the man's hands. Matt saw the opportunity and scrambled back to Sis and Mother in the corner.

A rather large upholstery needle was manipulated by my strings from the small store I keep protected in my wooden ribcage. The sharp needle impaled the man's arm in a non-vital location, but the man still shouted in pain.

I dragged him into the dining room, separate from the living room by a wall. I took out the shears I kept safely in my torso. The man was panicking and trying to take out the large needle buried in him.

"You hurt my family… _human_." I whispered, raising the shiny shears.

The job was quickly done.

I returned to the room. I was pleased. The family had seen me active! They saw how good I was! Now they could be with me and accept me! I'd be in the family. I would be their daughter.

When I got back, I found that Father had arranged them all facing away from the back entry door with it slightly opened while pressing against it as far from myself as possible. Father stood in front holding a shotgun he'd hidden behind the bookcase. Mother was talking frantically on the phone. She cast a trembling glance at me before whispering more hurriedly into the device.

I raised my arm in greeting and was surprised as the shotgun in Father's hands went off and blew plaster dust all over me just over my shoulder. They looked at me with the same expression Matt had when he was trying to get me to move.

They were scared.

They were scared of me.

I wanted to be a part of their life! I just wanted them to approve of me! I wanted them to accept me! I trusted them! I _saved_ them!

I felt this acidic burning in my chest. A foreign feeling of _anger_ and _objection_.

I did the _human_ thing and eradicated the threat to save their lives. I hurt him to save them and they still tried to kill me before I could even explain!

I just wanted to be a part of their life!

I just wanted that!

And they're trying to hurt me!

They were just…_ humans!_

I had to maneuver quickly to avoid the next shotgun blast aimed at my torso this time. I slipped into the hallway and out the front door.

Red and blue flashes with strong, bright lights assaulted my vision. I held up a hand against them and saw police cruisers and men in blue pointing more guns at me!

More guns!

Why guns!?

"Remain where you are! Do not move! We have you completely surrounded!" An amplified voice shouted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people leaving the houses far away and moving closer to get a view. They were "neighbors". They were all the same. _Human_!

Why can't I just be with them!? Why won't they let me in!? Or at least leave me alone!

The officers were stunned as they saw me, but their grips just tightened on their guns, eager to shoot what they didn't know. I heard one man's voice echo through the tension about capturing me.

I became angry. My threads began to shift silently in the grass under the men's feet. One of the uniformed men broke off from the wall towards me, silvery rings on a chain open. Handcuffs.

Admittedly, despite my earlier enthusiasm, I was unwilling to 'come quietly'.

When he got close, I activated the tripwire!

He stumbled over and my threads tossed him back into the fray. The automobiles were shifted out of the way and the men around them were tossed to the side. I used the furthest threads anchored in the trees behind them to pull me away faster than the others can react to shoot me again.

I reached across the barricade of cars and men and quickly began running. I heard shouts and sirens as the men reassembled themselves and began chasing after me.

I heard loud barking in the distance and I could guess they were using the K-9 Unit they used for criminals in pursuit. I remember the dog has "excellent smell". Whatever "smell" is.

As I ran down the road, a black and white car pulled up and passed me before shooting ahead and forming another barrier at the road. I used my threads and quickly yanked myself away from the fray. I ended up in the middle of the forests.

I ran past the trees, occasionally shooting my threads out to get a higher vantage point and propel myself faster and further from the chase.

The sounds of barking and shouting got further and further away until they became a quiet echo in the distance. I found a small clearing in the midst of all of the trees.

A stone was stuck in the ground in the middle of that clearing and I sat on it quietly. The moon let down a filtered blue-white light on everything. I recognized the feeling of "sadness", but I couldn't convey exactly why I felt as though my throat was closed up.

I had no throat in the first place.

My mind was modeled after a human, but without the human anatomy to supply it, I can't help but feel like something is missing from myself. As I leafed through Gray's Anatomy, that became very blindingly obvious.

I was alone now.

No creator.

No family.

No attic.

I was finally outside the house, my one biggest wish.

I was free.

But alone.

As I sat in the quiet and dark, I remembered the words to another song. For the second time that night, I quietly sang.

"_I have… no… strings… to hold. Me. Down."_

My threads moved quietly around me to form crude marionette strings on my hands and head and feet.

_"To make. Me. Fret…. Or Make. Me. Frown._

_"I had strings… but now… I'm… Free…"_

The threads fell limp around me, as though I was suddenly cut off from the puppetmaster. I let them lay in the dirt as I thought.

Free.

What is freedom?

What does it mean to be free?

How am I free from anything if I'm now lost and alone?

What good is freedom if it becomes painful?

I was alone. I needed to move on. I needed to find someone to take me in.

A flutter of blue caught my attention. I looked up and saw the fragile paper-like wings of a "butterfly" flapping towards me. I hadn't seen it since my first view of the "window". A smile graced my face at its serenity and reminded me of my first notion of where the butterfly went.

I held out my hand, inhumanly still, and the butterfly landed on my index finger, quietly whipping its thread-like tongue out to tap against my synthetic skin. I was not human, but the butterfly accepted me.

I smiled quietly.

I slowly held it up in the light-

…

My focus shifted behind it.

A figure was standing in the darkness of the woods. I didn't know him, obviously, but he couldn't have been human. Gray's Anatomy, the Television, the books all depicted people with faces and eyes and mouths.

This man had none. He was too tall. His skin was too unnaturally pale. He was not a horrible human.

_My dear._

I was startled out of my thoughts. A voice, a _male_ voice, resonated in my head! I clamped my hands around the skull support inside, trying to block it out.

_My dear, don't be afraid._

I lowered my hands slowly. The voice didn't resonate quite as bad anymore. I looked up at the figure and saw that he was now walking towards me. He knelt down on the ground, using his long arms to balance his disproportionate body.

_I'm here to offer a choice._

"A… a choice?"

My voice was quiet, faint, and whispery from relative disuse. This night I'd spoken more than I had in the past few months.

A choice.

Free will.

Freedom.

Or was it?

_Yes, a choice. We heard about you from an obscure blog on the internet. We came as soon as we heard there was an incident._ I remained silent as the figure continued. _I'm here to offer a choice for you. I know a place where we can take in those such as yourself. You will be safe there, if you choose. However, if you would prefer, we also have many quiet houses far away from people where you may live quietly_.

He held out a pale hand palm-side-up in offering.

I hesitated.

I could go somewhere far away. I'd never have to deal with those terrible humans again! I'd be as free as I choose. I can do as many sewing projects as I would like without them being taken away or shunned.

But I would be alone.

I could go with him. I could learn from this place. I could be safe from the humans and the guns and the experiments. I wouldn't be completely free, but I would have others.

I would not be alone.

I slowly put my hand in his. He stood up quietly and began walking towards the treeline.

I smiled.

I had made a choice.

"_There are no strings on me._"

A whisper of wind later, the two were gone. And by the time the dogs and police arrived, nothing was left but a few footprints leading to nowhere at all.

* * *

**AN:**

***click***

***This is a pre-recorded message from: 'oh, do I say it now… um, Crow'. The person you are trying to contact is unavailable at the moment, but has left this pre-recorded message for your convenience. Thank you.***

**"_Hey everybody, if this is playing, I've probably decided to use the OC designs I created and had, er, complications. Don't worry, I'll be fine… probably. Anyway, on to the AN:_**

_**I modeled Shiloh after my own philosophical nature. Questioning humanity from an inhuman creature that has notions of self-awareness, but a complete lack of all normal things associated with "life". What is war? What is freedom? What is slavery? Why do we hurt others intentionally or otherwise? Can you go through life as an island?**_

_**She's also heavily influenced by one of my favorite directors; Tim Burton. I really liked "Nightmare Before Christmas". My brother, sister, and I would watch it every October before Halloween as a tradition when we were kids.**_

_**I know the police would probably take Shiloh away in an evidence bag, but for now let's just assume they overlooked her. Okay?**_

_**And finally, yes that one obscene comment was a nod towards the "Elder Swear" from the Potter Puppet Pals. It was just to poke fun at Troll comments that pop up without any meaning to their existence.**_

_**Thank you for enjoying the chapter.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

**_Crow_"**

***End of Recording***

***click***

* * *

**Poll so far (3/13/16)**

**I was honestly surprised how many people approved "Lamp Eyes"**

**I recently discovered the "Polls" tab on my site. I was thinking that this could be the "preliminaries" for gathering the most popular of the names/weapons. Then, before I post the next chapter, I'll try to set up the poll with the top picks, because (honestly) I found it's a bit confusing and bothersome to go through everyone's PMs and reviews to tally up choices.**

**…**

**Weapons**

**Magic AK-47 (this was actually a joke when I first suggested it, I felt it'd be too OP... this early in the story *wink*): 1**

**Wires/jump cables in tandem with BRVR: 1**

**Hallucinagenic cloud: 1**

**Hakujin no tachi: 1**

**Urumi: 1**

**Hakujin no tachi: 1**

**Hatchet: 1**

**Razor: 1**

**Large scissors: 1**

**Knives: 1**

**Monstrous assembly of Death (Inspired by Krieg's Buzz Axe PM): 1**

**Scalpels: 1**

**…**

**…**

**Names**

**Cain/Kane: 3**

**Shadow: 3**

**Scath: 6**

**Ghost/Puca/Sanctus: 3**

**Lamp-Eyes: 4**

**Lampo-Okuloj ("Lamp Eyes" or "One who hopes" in Esperanto): 1**

**Tenebris: 3**

**Haze: 1**

**Hikaru ("glow"): 1**

**Bolt: 1**

**Slash: 1**

**Stalker (kind of taken by the guy in London): 1**

**A combination of "Dark Shadow": 1**

**A combination of "Green Darkness": 2**

**A combination of "Green shadow": 2**

**Lamb/Agnus/Uaineoil/Cit-Oen/Lambaz/Becard: 1**

**…**

**Sorry to DarkBlur2005, but "Umbra" is too close to "Umbridge", but I put you down for "Shadow".**

**…**

**Thank you to everyone who's submitted names. I will be closing the ability to "nominate" weapons and names at the next chapter update (Monday, March 21st, 2016) so I can start the polls for at least a chapter's worth of time, possibly two depending how things shape up.**

**Thanks to everyone who voted!**

**-Crow**


	16. Adrian

**AN:**

***click***

***This is a pre-recorded message from: 'oh, do I say it now… um, Crow'. The person you are trying to contact is unavailable at the moment, but has left this pre-recorded message for your convenience. Thank you.***

**"_Hey everybody. I'm probably still… busy with whatever went wrong in the last chapter, but I'll pull through._**

**_Yes, the song was inspired by Age of Ultron. I saw it a while ago and have been toying with the OC designs since Summer, but really finalized them last October._**

**_This chapter is largely un-betaed. Sorry, but my sister hasn't gotten back to me on feedback. She rarely does change anything anyway, so I just went over it a few more times than usual._**

**_So, this is my second OC (of 3). Please enjoy._**

**_Sincerely,_**

**_Crow_**

**_P.S. There may be some references to religious topics, but nothing too deep. Just a heads up and flame deterrent. 'Kay, bye!"_**

**_*End of Recording*_**

**_*click*_**

* * *

**…= Adrian's Story =…**

* * *

Orange.

Red.

Gold.

That's all that I see; an endless expanse of wheat under an orange sky with several red clouds floating above and a red-orange sun hanging at the edge of the world to the west.

It seemed picturesque, but it was marred by myself. My heart seemed like it was filled with a roaring fire, pushing me to keep moving through the endless fields towards some goal I barely understood.

All I know is that I'm really, _really_ angry. I needed revenge.

…

It pains me to admit, that the main flaw in that plan is that I don't know who to get revenge on or why I want revenge in the first place. It kind of makes it difficult to exact if you hold a grudge against a nameless figure.

My first real memory… or at least "aware" moment, was me standing in the middle of a field like this one when the sun was higher up, but still in the afternoon/evening hours of the day. I felt my anger, but it was directionless, like some rabid dog chasing after an unseen enemy.

I felt my knowledge, I knew a lot, apparently. Lots of tidbits of random facts and an eagerness to learn more. I felt cold, apathetic logic towards what I knew; about humanity, politics, society… but in the face of this anger, it was relieving.

So, as I walked, I began containing my anger. Bringing it down to a dull simmer and slowly bolstering my logic. Using the cool intellect to deduce myself and my surroundings.

It was very therapeutic.

Analyze everything factually, gather as much data and clues as possible, and try to piece together the great mysteries.

Who am I?

Where am I?

Why am I here?

Why am I angry?

Who in their right minds would plant this much wheat?

…

First, back to analysis.

My skin was pale, or at least what I could see on my arms and hands when I rolled up my sleeves. There was no reflective surface nearby (after all, it _is_ a wheat field) so I didn't know how I looked, but my hair was just barely long enough to pull down and confirm it was black or at the very least a very, very dark brown.

I had no references to my height and I didn't know how high the wheat was, so I couldn't deduce my age. What's more, I would need a mirror to conclusively decide upon that fact. I could be a grown man. I could be a teenager. I could be a child. For all I know, I could be middle-aged with exceptionally youthful hands and hair.

My clothes were very plain; a simple dark gray shirt with a simple gray hooded jacket. I wore dark, blue jeans and some black and white converse shoes with gray socks. Out of curiosity for knowledge, I analyzed myself further and determined that; yes, I was a male and apparently I preferred boxer-briefs. Also gray.

I didn't find any wallet or cell phone. My hoodie pockets were likewise empty.

My only abnormality, aside from near-total retrograde amnesia in the middle of nowhere, was a length of barbed wire coiled about three times around both of my forearms. Touching it, I was surprised it didn't hurt. It actually felt mildly warm when I put my hands against it, but I didn't feel anything through my hoodie, even when it was obviously pushing through the fabric. I followed it with my fingers and felt it wrap around my torso underneath the jacket and deduced to assess it further when I found a mirror… if I found a mirror.

I was disappointed how much information gathering relied on a mirror and so I turned my attention outward to my surroundings.

The wheat around me moved in waves with the wind. The stalks were about waist high, but they went on in a flat expanse for as far as I could see. I could deduce I was in America… probably. The wheat and extreme flatness suggested the Mid-West to be precise or possibly Montana.

I've been walking for a while, now, so it could be anywhere.

It's frustrating. I know a lot, like how Montana has wheat fields and actually has flatlands, or that it's summertime, or what wheat even is, but I can't remember my own location or full name.

I just had "Adrian".

That was all I could rack my brains about. No last name, no middle name, no birthday, no address, just "Adrian". Even then, I'm only 85% sure that's actually _my_ name.

So I, Adrian, am walking along a sea of wheat towards the _only_ landmark I can see.

A small farmhouse.

At the beginning, it was just a faded blur in the distance, but now it was distinctly a house with a barn and a tree. The entire structure jutted out of the wheat like only a man-made structure really knows how.

I don't know why I want to go there, I just know that it's somewhere not wheat.

* * *

I arrived.

It was… interesting, I suppose.

The farmhouse was isolated like an island in the middle of a sea of gold wheat. The house itself was once white, but had faded and peeled, allowing the brown wood to show through. It was a simple two-story house with a wrap-around porch and an attic space with a window. Around the back was a dilapidated barn also brown with long-since-peeled paint and a tiny doghouse sitting next to it.

An obviously broken-down truck sat on the overgrown remains of a gravel path, but the ancient pickup was rusted brown, gaping holes corroded away like metallic termites got to it. The flimsy remains of the hood were propped with a support rod with a rusty box of unusable tools almost hidden in the grass. I followed the gravel and found the faded remains of a dirt road lost to the wheat.

A rusted tractor sat by the edge of the wheat field. The blade was not badly rusted from the cover, but the rest of it was definitely beyond use.

The tree was dead, but probably oak or ash. One of the branches had two tattered strands of rope set apart and a rotted pulp of mulch on the ground between that suggested a swingset once upon a time.

The sun was setting rapidly, so I decided to go for the farmhouse for the night. Possibly explore around and look through the barn later on.

In the dying, red light I scoped out the place. The residents left rather quickly. Dusty china tchotchkes and ceramic plates were still lining walls and displays while tattered blankets and comforters were still lying over the living room couch cushions.

An ancient television set was in the corner. Experimentally, I turned it on, but wasn't surprised that there was no electricity in the house. Even then, the wires to the set were cracked with some metal exposed. Even if there was power or a generator around here, I'd be reluctant to use it. I didn't want frayed wires in the walls or elsewhere setting the only shelter for miles on fire.

I found a door that probably led to a bathroom with a lock that cracked as soon as I opened it. Carefully looking inside, I saw the skeletal remains of a dog… or at least something _like_ a dog. Its teeth were abnormally large and pointed. Its claws were worn down, but from the long, jagged lines raked through the walls and door I'd guess it filed them away scratching around the room.

I continued looking through the rest of the house, but most of the wooden or cloth-based furniture was rotted away. Surprisingly a lot of metal objects in the house survived; the forks, knives, spoons, and miscellaneous in the kitchen drawers were still in good condition, a few tools scattered around were also well off, and even the pots and pans had little corrosion.

Though, a lot of the house itself wasn't structurally sound. One bedroom's wooden floor collapsed and the bed was above the crushed remains of a dining table and overhead light. A few of the steps on the stairwell had fallen through with a couple more threatening to, so I limited my investigation to the first floor for now.

I glanced out at the endless expanse through a window.

By now, the light was obviously disappearing quickly. I made my way to the kitchen and was glad to find some emergency candles in a drawer along with a box of matches.

I set it on the tabletop and continued to look around the kitchen using the last of the sunlight. It took about five minutes before the twilight was close to running out. I opened the box and struck a match. Miraculously, despite their age, they still lit.

I quickly had the candle glowing as well and pocketed the matches. With the candle, I continued searching around the house. Aside from a lot of old tools, most either rusted useless or their wooden handles rotted to pulp, there was nothing useful.

I wasn't hungry, surprisingly, but given that there was just a self-sustaining ecosystem of mold and fungi in the fridge, I didn't have many options for food…

And I doubt I could pound enough wheat into bread.

I also found I wasn't really tired, either. That was another interesting point I kept thinking about. I'd been walking all day with no food (presumably) and even then I'd expect some level of physical or even mental exhaustion, but I was just as unperturbed by sleep as I was in the daytime. I resolved that I would just stay awake and be productive until I felt tired, probably looking for food when I inevitably become hungry… I assumed.

As darkness settled on the plains, I decided to at least keep the light going. Smashing up a few dry, splintered remains of some chairs, I quickly set them on fire in an old cast-iron stove in the living room using the candle's flame. The fire was small, but since it was summer, I didn't need the heat, only the light. I blew out my candle, saving the resource in lieu of the fire.

The entire night was uneventful save for the crackling of wood and occasional resupply of broken chair.

And in the distance, the faint howls of a coyote.

* * *

Dawn was surprising. Even with my knowledge from an unknown life, I'd never actually seen "sunrise" from 5 or 6 AM. The sky lightened so gradually I almost missed it because of a steady overcast. I hadn't slept at all, but didn't feel tired. It was confusing.

The overcast caused the entire farm and wheat field to appear gray. The sun and sky were above, but completely hidden by the cloud cover. It made time especially difficult to tell.

I continued to use the stove to keep a flame going, even at just a smolder. It was admittedly comforting to have.

A daytime search of the house actually came up with something I missed last night. The bathroom had a cracked mirror partially corroded away.

I examined myself.

I could guess my age around 14 or 15. My hair was short and black and stuck out at odd angles and I was able to put down my hood without the feeling of discomfort. My irises were dark, almost black, but I could tell by my skin pallor and bone structure I was Caucasian. Possibly French or German descent with some British or some other Northern European country, but from my knowledge of American History, I'd definitely say I originally was in the US.

It was helpful, at least, to have a face attached to myself. It was unnerving to have a sense of self, but no face to associate with.

Though, it didn't help me when I saw the wire. The barbed wire coils snaked around my arms and shoulders. It literally wrapped around my torso with direct contact to the skin, but no matter which way I moved, the wire didn't hurt me. But I couldn't find where the wire began or ended and when I tried taking it off, it seemed… _stuck_ to me.

I tried to ignore it as best as I could, but it was still an unnerving reminder of something very, very _wrong_.

The rest of the day was quiet.

I spent the limited sunlight exploring the rest of the farmhouse and barn.

Carefully traversing the stairs and upper floor, there seemed to be about three bedrooms (including the one that fell through its own floor), one bathroom, several storage areas, and an attic space that yielded nothing important or useful.

Everything in the attic was either a dusty antique tchotchke along the lines of "Great-Aunt Mildred's thimble collection" or was a box of papers and documents that erupted in earwigs when I nudged them.

The basement was surprising. There was a tool spot with the beginnings of some crude birdhouse, possibly, but the tools were still in relatively good condition despite spots of rust or worn down blades. Interestingly, I found bottles of hard liquor hidden away under the stairs. I had no inclinations to drink despite being underage, unsupervised, and alone with moonshine and, even then, I didn't want to waste the alcohol inside. Alcohol this pure could be useful.

A flashlight in the basement was ultimately useless; it's battery long-since corroded to a white, crystalline mess. A few cans of gasoline and oil had been reduced to a grimy jelly-like sludge at the bottom of the canister. Any wood and timber they had was rotten and splintered off easily or filled with tiny insects burrowing into it. I put them aside to burn later.

The fire still smoldered away in the furnace, I found that the raggedy remains of some quilt comforters on the beds made for excellent tinder to keep them going or restart them.

I was somewhat glad to see there were no other skeletons in the house, save for the dog's in the upstairs and a few tiny rat bones in the corners. I guessed whoever was here got away… or could very well have disappeared into the wheat.

The overcast caused darkness to settle quickly on the farmyard. In almost no time flat, it went from about the same luminosity as the day to me groping around for my candle and making my way to lighting it from the stove.

I stoked the fire with a cast-iron poker when I heard the baying again.

Last night, it sounded distant, but this time I could pinpoint the angle of the howls and tell it was close.

Too close.

I took a relatively stable chair leg and wrapped it with a length of rotted quilt. Dousing the end in the alcohol from the basement, it lit readily and I had a crude torch available.

Another howl bayed outside. I brought up another good chair leg with some nails poking out. It was honestly better than nothing and a few practice swings gave the impression that it would do some damage.

I opened the screen door to the back area, my eyes scanning the edge of the wheat as far as the torchlight would allow. There wasn't a moon out, so that wasn't helpful, even then I doubt it'd get through a cloud cover.

*shf*

I raised the blazing stick above my head and peered out. The shuffling sounds continued and the row of wheat at the edge parted like a curtain. A large, black dog… _thing_ came prowling out.

It was about the size of a Great Dane, but built more like a Doberman, but all black with red-black eyes. The snout was long and its canine lips were pulled back to reveal long, sharp ivory teeth. It growled at me, slowly getting closer and closer to the back steps.

I guessed that the skeleton in the room was, at most, an adolescent of the species. It was nowhere near as big as this one. Glancing down at my chair leg, I could tell it wasn't going to help.

I slowly backed away onto the wooden steps-

*creeeak*

The Dog burst into motion and was at the house before I had time to close the door. It barreled through into the tiled kitchen, its claws skittering across the floor before finding traction.

I faced it with my torch in one hand and crude wooden weapon in my other. The Dog just glared at me and kept growling, slowly circling around and causing me to adjust around it.

Suddenly, the Dog jumped over the table! I scrambled backwards, knocking over a china plate display, but the dog pounced again and I found myself underneath a solid 150 pound canine. My makeshift weapon was pressed against its throat, so the snapping jaws were only an inch away as it couldn't get low enough to bite my throat out.

I was using both hands to keep the chair leg up, but the other hand still managed to hold onto the torch on the end. I maneuvered it and jammed the flaming bit right below the Dog's eye. It howled in frustration and swiped at the burn mark with its paw. The torch and weapon skittered away in the scramble.

I realized that I had maneuvered it so it was in the other room while my back was to the kitchen. While the Dog was in pain, I put as much space between us as I could and quickly raided a drawer for a decently-sized carving knife.

By now, the Dog got over the burn and was snarling angrily at me. It slowly moved and then quickly gained momentum. I slashed at it with the knife, but it still barreled me to the ground again. This time, my weapon wasn't with me and I had to use my arms to barely keep it away from me.

Then, the Dog _split_.

I don't know how else to put it, but evidently it wasn't falling for the same tactics again. The lower jaw opened and the skin behind it came apart, revealing a gaping mouth with thousands of teeth lining it and about five tongue-like appendages wriggling like earthworms.

Whatever the Hell this was- it wasn't just a dog.

I flipped myself over, upsetting the creature's balance and quickly stood up and jumped the table to the other side.

I frantically realized the torch had gone out and the only light was the red flicker from between the grates of the iron stove behind me, casting too many shadows to make out where the weapon was.

The Dog had jumped on the table and was now tensing its hind legs.

The world seemed to slow down as the beast went sailing through the air directly at me, it's obscenely wide mouth revealing jagged teeth ready to tear me apart.

I couldn't move.

This was-

*shlk!*

For a second, I thought my perception of time had skewed even further. The Dog was motionless in front of me, hovering in the air mid-strike. Then, a glint caught my eye. I followed it up to a strand of barbed wire reflecting red light from the stove behind me.

Morbidly I followed the wire and saw that it had impaled the dog straight through, killing it almost instantly and keeping it suspended in the air. The other end lead straight to my right arm, where the coil was.

I swallowed heavily in fear, confusion, and adrenaline crash. I relaxed myself and the wire ripped out of the Dog and went back to coiling around my arm. There was no blood or gore, even on the barbs themselves, but the mess of a Dog was still in front of me.

I looked down at my arms, the wire still coiled around unmovingly.

I felt a wave of nausea in my stomach despite not eating a single thing in probably well over 24 hours. I impulsively ran to the bathroom in the darkness and stood in front of the sink, waiting to vomit or dry heave or whatever.

About five minutes in, the feeling subsided and I slowly got up-

I jolted backwards and jammed my back into the door handle. I ignored the pain, aside from shifting so it didn't impale me, and stared ahead of me. Two red lights were peering back at me, like faded embers.

Backing away, I made my way back to the stove and used the flame to light a candle before picking up the discarded knife from the fight. I walked slowly, apprehensively back to the bathroom.

I screwed up my courage and entered, tense and ready to slash at whatever was there.

Above the sink, was the mirror.

I felt confused and foolish for being afraid of the mirror, but mostly concerned about the lights. I removed the mirror from the hook and confirmed there was nothing behind it that may have caused it. Cautiously, I hid the candlelight , but there was no red glow anywhere.

I was about to just give up when I noticed my wire.

It was glowing slightly red.

I put a hand over it, and it did feel slightly warm, though it ought to have felt a lot warmer given that the _metal_ was _glowing_.

I turned my arms over, looking at the metallic appendages and concentrated on moving them, like moving an arm or leg or finger. Slowly, a small tip separated itself from the coil moving almost like a snake, hovering above my arm.

I glanced in the mirror-

I could feel myself freezing

My face.

My eyes.

I found the glow.

My face was still the same shape. My hair was still the same short, black mess. My skin was still pale.

But my eyes were gone.

They weren't gone in the sense that the eyelids were empty, it was more like my sockets had sunken into themselves and the skin faded into the dark recess. In the center, though, was just a faint red glow. Like two burning embers.

My mouth had changed too. I had no lips and I couldn't see my teeth or gums. It was just as dark as my eye sockets, but without a glow. The sides of my mouth were slightly split so opening slightly gave the impression of grinning, though I could manipulate it into an extra-wide frown or other facial expressions.

I looked at my arm, at the coil hovering above it and slowly willed it down. Keeping an eye on both it and my appearance, I saw that my face changed back to a much more natural appearance a few seconds after the wire was tucked away again.

I backed out of the room slowly.

I made my way to the living area with the red glow of the fire still going. I sat in one of the more sturdy chairs and slumped down in shock at everything that happened in just under a day.

I am in an unknown location.

I am possibly completely surrounded by those Dog Creatures.

I can control wires attached directly to my body.

I am not human.

I sat collectively thinking about this; putting my logical left brain to use.

Simply put, I needed to put this in a succinct, logical way that expressly puts everything in perspective.

…

_What the f*ck is going on?!_

* * *

About 32 days have passed.

I have deduced where I am.

I must be in Purgatory.

That is one of the more logical solutions to this situation… at least it was the best I could come up with. Plus, looking at it in a metaphysical standpoint I suppose it made sense given my limited knowledge of religion and Judeo-Christian and Catholic beliefs… as well as several snippets from an occasional movie or two.

I woke up with only vague knowledge of my past life (or, along the Purgatory motif, my "living" life) in the middle of an unknown expanse of wheat, similar to ancient Greek depictions of the Fields of Asphodel. Now, my afterlife is consisting of waiting in a dilapidated farmhouse with limited provisions and fending off nightly attacks from the Dogs, or perhaps Hellhounds. I'm honestly not sure.

I wasn't one for mythology or religion in "life", so I'm unequipped as to what to do exactly… bummer.

I didn't need to eat or drink or sleep, so that further supported the "afterlife" theory as well as my… unsettling appearance.

I thought it over and theorized that I probably died horrifically and held a grudge against someone which manifested in the wire and consistent mild anger.

All-in-all, not what I was expecting in the slightest.

Although it could be worse.

I wasn't in pain or agony, just boredom. So it was a good chance I wasn't in Hell… yet.

On day 6, I finally got around to exploring the barn and I found a lot of the harvesting tools were rusted away from the relatively open structure. However, I found a few that were safe from most of the elements under an old tarp.

Over the choices; an old pitchfork, a tiny hacksaw, a couple of power tools (with no electricity to power them), and a vintage scythe, I had to say the scythe was the most aesthetically pleasing and useful in this place. Plus, along the "afterlife" thing, I felt it was ironic and fitting.

By day 10, I'd exhausted the useless lumber of the house and short of ripping apart the supports themselves, I had to turn to other fuel sources. So, using my scythe I learned how to reap a few bundles of wheat around me. As it turned out, it was late enough in the summer that the wheat had taken on the golden, yellow hue and burned more readily than green grass.

The Dogs kept coming each night, oftentimes just one, but sometimes as many as five would show up at a time. I used my wires and scythe to keep them at bay. It was an effective strategy, most of them died quickly. I would toss their corpses back into the wheat and by the morning they'd be gone.

I didn't know if they were undead and just got up and limped away to attack again the next day or if their brethren weren't above cannibalism and just dragged their fallen into the wheat.

I found my way to the top of the farmhouse and contemplated that.

If this is Purgatory, then those hounds must be trying to drag my "sinful soul" into the wheat. Presumably, I would be devoured by them for eternity or taken to a place of eternal suffering somewhere far, far beyond the wheat. But still, as far as I could tell, it was just me, the farmhouse, the barn, the tree, and the wheat.

It was largely boring and sad.

Wow, who would've guessed the afterlife would be so dull. I remember the Egyptians buried their wealthy with possessions and toys.

I at least wished my family, assuming I had one, buried me with a magazine or a book or something. All of the reading material here was either crumbling dust or earwig food. The most entertaining thing to do was just sit up on the farmhouse and stare at the sunsets.

In the distance, I saw a parting in the wheat moving along towards the farmhouse. I sighed and picked up my scythe and headed back to the ground.

Sure enough, a Dog erupted out of the wheat and barreled towards me, unhinged jaws snapping. It put up a bit of a desperate fight which made it harder to hit with my wire. In the end, it got too close and with one swipe of my scythe, I lobbed its head off.

I tossed both the head and the body a ways into the wheat, but I glanced up at the sun worriedly. The first week, they would always attack at night probably around midnight. Then, they got earlier and earlier in the night until finally it got to the point where Dogs were arriving at the farmhouse at the sunsets or in broad daylight.

I hoped it was just desperation from their numbers dwindling. In that case, I hoped the population of the Dog-creatures went extinct rather quickly.

If this is Purgatory, then I hoped for the Apocalypse to finally get me out of here soon.

I hopped back up to my spot on the top of the farmhouse.

That's when I saw him.

He was out in the wheat by the Dog I'd tossed out there. From how he was bent, I could see he was examining the corpse.

He was tall, abnormally so, maybe 7 and a half feet. He wore a simple black suit that closely fit his thin frame.

He was odd to say the least… but then, I've been stuck here for a month now with no other living creature save for insects, Dogs, and the very rare rat or field mouse.

I quietly settled down from my perch and approached him. His back was turned to me as he examined the Dog, so I managed to stay undetected. When I was about four feet from him, I set my scythe on my shoulder in a relaxed position.

"Can I help you?"

The figure stiffened slightly, but gave no other indication of surprise. He slowly stood up and towered over me. He slowly turned-

…

"Are you a Harbinger of the Apocalypse? Or are you here to tell me that it's already begun and I'm due to move on?"

The figure tilted its head wordlessly.

I interpreted it as a silent question. "I have deduced I am in Purgatory. It's the only explanation for why I don't eat, sleep, drink, or have any other living inclinations. It also explains why I'm in the middle of nowhere with a faint concept of what my life was like and, finally, it explains why I'm being approached by a faceless, 7-foot-tall inhuman being.

"So, you being here, I assume that something's happened and I'm supposed to do something. You're the first living thing I've seen since I got here… aside from those." I pointed to the corpse of the Dog.

_Hahahaha_. The entity chuckled soundlessly, though I still heard it. Telepathy… interesting.

_No. As far as I understand it, the Apocalypse is not anytime soon. I am here to investigate a sudden drop in the Field Hound population as of late, not that anyone minds that fact. No one likes those vicious things. However, I was told to investigate due to its remote location._

"I see." I shifted, moving the scythe more into view. "So, you've found out I'm the one… 'reducing the population', so what are you supposed to do now?"

_Truthfully? I was just supposed to find out what it was and if it poses a threat if it's not contained. However I see you're doing well enough on your own, and I know many out here prefer their privacy, so I'll leave your territory if you'd prefer_-.

"Wait!" I exclaimed before it left. This was my only chance, I couldn't lose it! "I have questions… please. Who am I? Where am I? Why can I do this-" I raised my wires and felt my face shift. The entity's posture suggested mild surprise. "- and what does it mean?"

The entity thought for a moment before a reply drifted through my head. _I don't know who you are, however I can tell you that you are in a remote farm in Kansas. It is currently mid September, though I'm sorry to say that the exact date has slipped my mind._

"So, I'm not in Purgatory?" I clarified.

_No._ The entity chuckled again. _I promise you that you are still very much in the realm of the Living… though given your appearance I can't guarantee that you, yourself, are still among that number_.

I looked away in contemplation. So, I was still on Earth (that was a relief) though as to my past or condition I had nothing. Honestly death made the most sense.

"So, I'm more of a ghost than anything else? A wraith or something?"

_Possibly. Contrary to popular beliefs, many of the ghosts I encounter are very much solid. I have one ward who is a particularly energetic eight year old and is completely like any other child her age save for some bloodstains._

"There are more like me?" The figure nodded. I felt… relieved for lack of a better word, though I was still curious. "So, if I may be callous, what exactly are you? Or who are you?"

_My name is Slenderman, one word. I know you said you didn't know who you were, but I would appreciate a name or title for the paperwork._

"My name is Adrian. That's all I know." I admitted.

_I see… May I ask you, why are you here?_

"… I don't know. My first conscious moments were in the wheat about a month ago. Ever since, I've been stuck on this… island for lack of a better term."

_I can see the analogy. I suppose it isn't terribly entertaining around here, save for the Hounds_.

I nodded. So far, my most anticipated moment of the day was fueling the fire, cutting some wheat, and occasionally making faces in a reflective spoon I found. Not too stimulating.

_If you don't mind, could you possibly come with me to fill out the paperwork?_ My head perked up. _I admit it's difficult to complete when the applicant doesn't even know their own story, so it would be much simpler if you came along. Of course, if you prefer to stay here I-_

"Please take me with you!" I exclaimed pleadingly. I was surprised by my own outburst and more than a little ashamed at the clear desperation. But in my defense, I'd been stewing in the middle of nowhere for a month now. I was pretty desperate to get out and more than slightly stir crazy. I straightened myself and cleared my throat. "I wouldn't mind at all and I'd be very grateful for the lift. I'm not here voluntarily and I'd appreciate a change in scenery. Especially to understand the nature of my current condition."

The Slenderman didn't have facial features to depict it, but I could somehow tell he was smirking. _Very well, do you have anything here you with to collect?_

"No. Just my scythe. I'm rather fond of it now." The entity inclined his head in acknowledgement.

_Now, as a formality, most who find themselves in your predicament choose their own names. Do you have any preference or would you prefer to just go by "Adrian"?_

I thought about it, glancing at the scythe in my hand.

Standing here, with a long imposing scythe with my arms wrapped in barbed wire and my legs shrouded in wheat stalks, I looked like some scarecrow. It felt appropriate, so I racked my brain for something that fit.

"Thresher. I am the Harvester, Adrian Thresher."

Slenderman nodded in acceptance and held out a pale hand for me to hold onto. A wisp of black smoke later and we vanished.

A desolate wind blew across the cold, empty fields.

* * *

***click***

*******This is a pre-recorded message fr-  
**

**"_Yeah, yeah, they get it. Hello everyone. Just an ending AN, here._**

**_ATTENTION EVERYONE, POLLS SHOULD BE UP! PLEASE READ THE AN FOR DETAILS._**

_**Adrian may or may not have a specific backstory, but we'll reveal that slowly.**_

_**For this character, I actually based it off of my Left Brain and the characteristics/personality of several friends. A bit more cold and analytical with a tendency to enjoy fire more than is healthy. We actually designed the character together during an unnecessary lecture session.**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Crow"**_

_*****_**End of Recording*  
**

***click***

* * *

**Poll so far (3/21/16)**

**Alright. I'm officially ending nomination votes and activating the polls for these. I decided to take the top picks of the names and weapons (indicated by a *). Please vote!**

**I'm keeping this poll up until Thursday, April 4th (about two weeks).**

**…**

**Weapons**

**Magic AK-47 (this was actually a joke when I first suggested it, I felt it'd be too OP... this early in the story *wink*): 1**

***Wires/jump cables in tandem with BRVR: 6**

***Hallucinagenic cloud: 2**

**Hakujin no tachi: 1**

**Urumi: 1**

**Hakujin no tachi: 1**

***Hatchet: 2**

**Giant Axe: 1**

**Balisong: 1**

**Razor: 1**

**Large scissors: 1**

***Knives: 2**

***Monstrous assembly of Death (Inspired by Krieg's Buzz Axe PM): 3**

**Scalpels: 1**

**Mage Staff: 1**

**…**

**…**

**Names**

***Cain/Kane: 4**

***Shadow: 4**

***Scath: 7**

**Ghost/Puca/Sanctus: 3**

***Lamp-Eyes: 9**

**Lampo-Okuloj ("Lamp Eyes" or "One who hopes" in Esperanto): 2**

**Tenebris: 3**

**Haze: 1**

**Hikaru ("glow"): 1**

**Bolt: 1**

**Slash: 1**

**Stalker (kind of taken by the guy in London): 1**

**A combination of "Dark Shadow": 1**

**A combination of "Green Darkness": 2**

**A combination of "Green shadow": 2**

**Lamb/Agnus/Uaineoil/Cit-Oen/Lambaz/Becard: 2**

**Casper: 1**

**…**

**Alright. I _think_ the poll is up and active. I don't know how to vote on it. Does anyone know where I can go to view it? If someone could give me a confirmation PM or something, I'd really appreciate it.**

**Thanks to everyone who voted!**

**-Crow**


	17. Nick

**AN:**

***click***

***This is a pre-recorded message from-**

**"_Shut up, already. Okay? Seriously not up for this._**

**_Hello everyone, it's Crow… I'm just… ugh…_**

**_Let's go over the last two-to-three weeks, shall we?_**

**_Before Monday: getting back into the "swing of things" after Spring Break and studying_**

**_Monday: Exam (got a B though through the curve [at 53% and still getting a pretty solid B, you can imagine how hard the course is])_**

**_Tuesday: Preparations for course selection and Homework_**

**_And I feel like I need to put this in. My version of "homework" is where it becomes _so_ much easier when you assume an ideal isentropic turbine in a closed, circulating coolant system with an ideal, isentropic pump with negligible work input. Then, apply the conditions given the coolant's Temperature/Entropy chart with pressure and enthalpy gradients along a liquid/vapor saturation curve. Knowing this, determine the "quality" of the vapor produced (aka, the molar fraction concentration in vapor form)._**

**_No joke. These are actual words. This is an actual situation. This was my homework last week. And this was the easy one that took less than ten minutes to solve._**

**_Wednesday: Fall course selection (and subsequent tragedy from conflicting and blocked-out courses)_**

**_Thursday: resolving the course selection dilemma with three different counselors I had to run around to meet_**

**_Friday: Internship interview a few miles out of town. I took a cab; $17 there and $17 back!_**

**_Friday afternoon: body shuts down… literally. I napped for 3 hours without realizing it. And now, the stress and sleeplessness is catching up and I am currently coughing up phlegm and occasionally something that tastes kind of coppery while desperately wanting to sleep away the week._**

**_Still, reviews and PMs are welcome and help alleviate my illness and stress. Seriously, the two reviews I got last Friday were the ones that got me going this weekend to get back to updating._**

**_AN: Warning, this chapter contains a vivid description of being in an enclosed space and an induced panic attack along with descriptions of nightmarish/uncomfortable situations. Just in case you're susceptible to panic attacks._**

**_-Crow_**

**_P.S. On the upside, this is the last OC chapter before we get back into the _real_ story._**

**_P.P.S. How did I know I was going to have a really bad week when I recorded this? … Magic!_**

**_*End of Recording*_**

**_*click*_**

* * *

**...= Nick's Story =...**

* * *

I stumbled along the road. It was one of those country roads where every few feet had a new pot hole or uneven crack. Plus the fact that it was pitch black didn't help.

Oh yeah, and the fact that I was dead about an hour or so ago. That's also disorienting. I don't recommend it really... well actually I don't recommend whatever happened to me.

So, a little about myself, my name's Nikolaus, but I go by "Nick". Yeah, I added a "c" to the nickname; sue me. I don't remember my last name. Just the first.

My parents named me after some entomologist. For those who don't want to Google it, it's a guy who studies bugs. That's actually what they do. Both my parents work at zoos and nature preserves maintaining insect populations and insect habitats.

Guess it runs in the family. I mean, I'm a bug freak too. Most families had pet dogs or cats when their kid was 3; I had a pet tarantula and an enormous horned beetle. Ever since, I've been collecting insects and I'm pretty good, too.

My room frequently rotated through habitats from homemade ant-farms, several terrariums, and even a specialized compost bin for decomposers. Most boys grew out of their bug obsession after, like, their 8th birthday, but my parents were never too afraid of the creepy crawly kinds of things, so they never tried pushing me away. Now, I'm a proud 13 year old teen who's still got a knack for bugs.

Yep. A real "chick magnet", like my dad says.

We lived all over the place, really wherever the job opportunities took us. Sometimes we'd move to New York to maintain a zoo habitat, then the next month down to Florida at a nature preserve in the Glades, then the Mid-West to analyze honeybee populations.

Our last move brought us here to Minnesota... at least, I think that's where I am.

I stumbled over another pothole.

Oh, yeah. I got sidetracked. Back to the present scene; I am walking along a run-down country road covered in dirt in my good Sunday suit and tie. My head is pounding. My stomach feels nauseous. It's dark and there hasn't been a single car this entire time.

But still, let's go back to how this all started.

* * *

We moved to this state about a month ago. It was in this really forested area. A result of moving actually holds a small stipulation that I have to release any native insect life I've caught or studied. It's like that Emerald Ash Bore thing a few years back. States are pretty upset whenever someone brings in an invasive or foreign species, even as pets. They don't want to risk it getting out and breeding.

Overall, I didn't mind too much. I took pictures and notes and stuff of each of the habitats and insects before letting them out and cleaning the terrarium. That's why I said I rotate through these habitats. New habitats for a new move.

So, about a week after settling in to our new home, I got to start looking around. It was summer, so school's not in session. I got my bearings with the town's layout; post office, a couple grocery stores and convenience stores, a guns and ammo shop, a tackle shop, a camping shop. Yeah, turns out Minnesota is a pretty popular camping destination.

Anyways, the entire "tour" took about one afternoon. There wasn't much interesting, so I set my sights on something I'd been excited for since we got here.

The woods.

Being in the middle of nowhere has the perk of being close to nature preserves, forests, plains, and even corn fields where species thrive with less human interference and pest exterminators than in Suburbia.

I got home that evening pretty quickly after that.

"Hey, mom, I'm going out!" I shouted towards the kitchen.

My mother's voice was muffled by the distance, "Alright, Dinner's at 6 tonight!"

"Okay!" I was already in my room, packing a backpack with some miniature terrariums, a logbook, an insect species guide, a flashlight, and a couple of granola bars. I slung a fine-mesh net over my shoulder and bounded out of the house.

I ran into the forest, making sure to keep an eye out for my house so I didn't get lost. Not that it's a problem with me. I… actually, we'll get back to that one.

I found a good rotting stump and put on my mom's gardening gloves. I peeled back the bark carefully and watched the virtual eruption of a thousand decomposer insects rushing around from the intrusion. A lot of sow bugs, a couple earwigs, a bunch of beetles and slugs, an entire colony of ants and their white, wormy babies. Not much interesting.

I picked up one of the slugs using a toothpick, careful not to impale it or anything. It just slimed along the end of it moving around like a living booger.

I shone a flashlight on it. It was a pale, yellow/brown slug about 3/4 of an inch long. Just a common garden slug. I set it down on the stump and stuck around a few minutes watching it slime away.

I continued the expedition, but so far I'd limited my evening/dusk search to a less in-depth search of the nearby woods. Nothing stood out, it was all just the same common pests you'd find anywhere.

Dusk started setting in. I glanced down at my watch. 6:15.

"Shit!" I exclaimed.

I hoisted my backpack and ran back the direction I thought I'd gone. After just a minute or two of running I realized that this stump looked just like that stump which resembled that stump. Great.

Remember how I said I didn't get lost, well I didn't lie.

I walked over to a tree and picked up a pretty straight stick. I ran my hand along the length, ripping off the smaller offshoot branches as I went until I had a relatively smooth stick.

I closed my eyes and held out the stick in front of me. For a few minutes I just heard the chirping of some crickets coming out (also not worth catching), then I felt the stick itself. I focused on home and what our new house looked like. The stick seemed to have a tiny pull on the end of it. Like a magnet giving an invisible, but present pull towards it.

I could also "see" a small trail being channeled from both my hands through the stick and out the end, pointing towards home. It was like a long strand of yarn spun from blue, wispy light guiding me along. I couldn't do much else with the light. It always felt weak or blocked off for some reason. I felt conflicted on that.

It felt like something powerful that was _just_ beyond my grasp, but was too weak to really do much more than this dowsing rod trick. Still, it was handy. Anywhere I wanted to go I could use that dowsing rod trick to get there.

I followed the string of light over stumps and fallen logs and, sure enough, my new house started peeking through the trees and I got to the front door in no time flat.

"Nikolaus!"

I cringed. Full pronunciation. Bad news.

Anyways, I don't need to remember the scolding she gave me nor the take-out Tai food we got (though, the mango chicken was pretty good).

The main event happened as I was putting away my stuff from the expedition. I slung off my gear and sat at my desk chair. The Internet wasn't up yet, so that was out. Maybe I could sketch some insects.

I wasn't good, but it's what entomologists do.

I picked up a clean, white sheet of paper and a new pen. I flipped on the light on my desk to work by. I thought about the many species and subspecies and finally one came to mind. I set down my pencil tip on the smooth surface-

*blink*

-and now stared at the pitch darkness all around me.

"Nick! The fuse shorted again! Do you know where your father keeps the spares?!" My mom called up. The fuses are from the old house and have been on the fritz. Mom's calling an electrician sometime next week. Dad was off at the preserve right now.

"I'll do it!" I shouted back. I flipped on my phone's light and walked down the stairs. My mom had already turned her flashlight on and was lighting a candle.

I headed downstairs to the cellar. It was cold and damp like any other cellar out here. I pulled a small box labeled "fuses" from the shelf.

I ambled around the basement, shining my flashlight over the clutter we brought along mingling with clutter that was already there. After five minutes, I called up, "Mom! Where's the fusebox?!"

"The what?!"

"The fusebox! For the fuses!"

"I know it's down there! Just move some boxes around!"

"Alright!"

Yep. That's the main mode of communication in our house. I've met some people who think it's rude to do that, but we know it's just a convenience that we don't mind as a family.

I continued searching through the boxes, occasionally shuddering at some rat crap hidden away. Eventually, I noticed a door that got hidden behind a few old supply boxes.

I shoved them over as a unit and pulled the door open. Shining my flashlight in, I first noticed the large, gray box on the cover. The second thing I noticed was a decent sized beetle.

Go figures, I notice the beetle, but my interest was piqued. I'd never seen an insect like it before.

It was a black beetle, the kind with a shiny exoskeleton. It was slender like a cockroach, but not shaped like one. Finally, it had a small, red pattern on its back.

I backed away slowly, the insect just clicking occasionally. I quietly ran back upstairs and down, telling my mom that I'd found a cool bug. I could hear the eye-roll from the kitchen, but she let me run up, grab a jar, and run back down.

The beetle was still in the exact spot I left it in. I slowly crept forward

I just-

-had-

-to-

*clap*

"Gotcha!"

I trapped the little guy in the jar and slid a paper underneath. It didn't struggle as much as I'd expect, it just sort of sat there, staring at me whenever I'd turn it to try to get a better look.

I set the capped jar to the side and fixed the fuses.

My mom called down and confirmed that the lights were back on. I picked up my jar and brought it along with me.

Jogging upstairs, I set my catch next to my desk and turned on a white fluorescent. The bug kept swiveling to stare at me, but I made out more of the markings. They were intricate to say the least and stood out bright against the smooth, black surface before. Unlike most beetle patterns, it wasn't so much "spotty" as deliberately in a skull-shape.

I opened my reference texts and began leafing through all known beetle species. None of them really matched the description for Minnesota insects. I looked further outward for neighboring states. Then the entire USA. Then I just tried everywhere in the world.

Nothing came up.

I couldn't believe it! I was way too excited! A never-before-seen beetle in my own house! I'd name it and everything!

Oh, Jeez, okay… calm down… calm down… what does a 13 year old do when he finds out something new?

"Mom!"

…

Huh, I would've thought 'sequester it in my room' was the route I'd take. You know, what most teens my age do? Great, now I feel like a momma's boy or something.

I ran down the stairs, my hand capping the jar with the bug. Names were already running through my head. "The Niko Beetle". "The Red Death". "The Ninja Bug".

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Lookatit!" I shouted pushing the jar in her field of vision over the book she was reading.

She flinched backwards and blinked as she adjusted on the tiny being in the jar. The beetle scuttled towards her, twitching its antennae before turning back to me. "What am I looking at here, sweetie?"

"A bug I found by the fusebox!" I exclaimed excitedly. "I checked all of my textbooks, it's nowhere!"

She gave me that 'parent' smirk, "Well, we'll see about it and I'll lend you some of my _other_, more _extensive_ textbooks. Sweetie, I know it's exciting. Believe me, when I was 8 I found a beautiful butterfly that I thought was a new species and it turned out to be an invasive gypsy moth. I doubt you'll find a new species in a house out here." She handed me back the jar, returning to the paperwork in front of her.

"But it's really something new, mom!" I argued.

"Honey, it's been a long day, alright?" She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Let's just go to bed and deal with it in the morning, alright?"

I grumbled, but headed upstairs. I dropped the jar off on top of my dresser, deciding to build a terrarium for it tomorrow and seeing if there were any more like it.

I settled into the covers and continued mulling over my options for a name.

I didn't hear the tiny clicking of the beetle _eating_ through the plastic jar lid.

* * *

I woke up irritably.

My clock told me it was almost midnight. I tiredly blinked and looked around the dark room, only the streetlight casting some illumination through the windows.

I tried to identify what exactly woke me-

"Ow."

I couldn't help the small exclamation as my arm stung.

I looked down and saw the small beetle was on my forearm. In front of it was a red, swollen bite mark that still throbbed painfully.

"Hey, you!"

The beetle looked at me, or at least I think it did. It tilted its body so the head faced me more, then it immediately dove down and bit me with its pincers again.

Angry, I swatted the guy off and saw it land on the floor upside down before scrambling back to its stomach and scuttling in a circle.

I examined my arm and-

Oh my god!

It's happened once or twice where I fall asleep on my arm really weirdly and cut off all circulation to the point that my arm loses all feeling. It's even gotten to the point where my arm loses all functionality for a while. It just hangs off of me like a limp limb.

My arm had two red bite marks on the forearm and I couldn't feel a thing below it. My hand loosely hung on the wrist and flopped around as I turned it. Suddenly, my elbow gave out as well and hung as loosely as the rest!

The numbing feeling continued crawling up my arm!

I panicked and sat in my bed trying desperately to process this whole mess. It has to be a nightmare! It's gotta be!

A pinch on my leg made me notice that the stupid beetle had climbed back onto the bed and managed to get my calf muscle! I could already feel my toes and ankles going numb.

I dove out of the covers and started limping over to the door, only to crash to the floor as my knee gave out. Crawling with one arm is tedious and slow, but I could already feel whatever freaky venom the beetle injected loosening my shoulder.

"Mom." I croaked out painfully. My throat seemed dry and tight. I guessed the venom had circulated there quicker. "Dad."

By now, the poison reached both legs and I couldn't feel anything below my waist. I flailed my one good arm trying desperately to keep going. Keep crawling. Keep moving. Get help! Get-

*pinch*

My entire body collapsed as the small twinge on my neck spread like wildfire.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod!

The tiny beetle skittered past my ear and I felt its tiny legs padding against my cheek. It got to my loose jaw and slowly pried my lips apart. I could only breathe in panic as the disgusting thing wriggled its way past my teeth and brushed against my tonsils.

I could feel the thing maneuvering down my esophagus and was prevented from coughing by the venom when it started moving through my trachea!

It's a nightmare! It's not real!

It's a nightmare! It's not real!

It's a nightmare! It's not real!

It's a nightmare! It's not real!

That mantra, over and over in my head, didn't do much to help alleviate the tension, the anxiety, the just-plain "ew" cringe-worthy pain!

I don't know how, but it seemed like it latched itself onto my heart, like some kind of leech. That wasn't even anatomically possible!

It sounds ridiculous, but I felt my body _rejecting_ me! I felt like I was literally being forced out of my own head and the skittering, scuttling insect was pushing its way in like a tumor. If I had to put an analogy to it, it was like a glowing, red dye was slowly working its way through my blood and nerves, inching along the intricate pathways outwards from the center.

The venom started causing my brain to fog over, feeling more like mushy pudding than anything else._ Give up_, a voice commanded. It was so much easier to just let go.

To just give in to the nice voice.

To just die…

...

_No!_

I refuse to die! I won't let this happen. It took every ounce of willpower I had, but it was worth it! Slowly the mind-fog began pulling away. I found the bug was starting to take over my limbs with little success at this point. The insect was genuinely surprised I made it back.

I felt it skitter from my vital organ, trying to maintain control and push me back to the Fog. _You're not the boss of me!_ I willed my voice out as far as it would go. My soul felt revitalized and almost glowed with something.

_I won't let you take over me!_ I shouted angrily.

The pulse of energy started in my head and began flowing down my body like blood in veins, a blue glow combating the red and pushing it back. That once-weak blue energy now seemed almost quadrupled in strength and actually _felt_ like a physical, liquid energy! The bug scrambled anxiously while maintaining its grip on my heart, but found it had nowhere to go as the streams of energy closed in around it and began congregating at the organ.

The blue light finally took over my heart and the insect convulsed as the blue forced its way into it. The entire bug glowed an icy crystalline blue and stilled. It was still embedded in there, but it was silenced. Dead.

The blue light faded from its initial strong glow, but was reduced to a constant, dull glow traveling like extra blood vessels along my body. It didn't fade away completely. I felt kind of "whole".

I was so relieved. It was over!

Now to get to a doctor…

…

Oh God!

I couldn't move! I was still paralyzed!

Help!

Help!

The edges of my mind began fringing with darkness.

Help!

Help.

He..lp.

H…

…

* * *

I woke up.

Sort of.

I knew I opened my eyes, but it was still completely dark. Worse than my room, even. In my room I at least had the streetlights and the glow of my digital clock.

Here, it was completely dark.

This wasn't your average everyday darkness. This was…Advanced Darkness.

I let myself grin… just a bit. I had to admit that was appropriate.

To my relief I felt my limbs twitch. The venom must've worn off. I almost let out a chuckle from the sheer relief I had.

I moved my arm-

*clunk*

My hand hit a solid, wooden barrier right next to it. I frowned and rolled over-

*thunk*

My shoulder hit wood, too.

I started moving more rapidly.

*thunk* My arm.

*thunk* My head.

*thunk* My foot.

*thunk* My torso.

My breathing got ragged.

My fists pounded against the edges of the wooden box thinly lined with some cloth! Yes! A _wooden box_!

_I was in MY FREAKING COFFIN!_

"This is a nightmare! It has to be!" I muttered anxiously.

My body twitched and ached to get out and stretch. My lungs burned with the desire for open space and fresh air. I squeezed my eyes shut and my arms maneuvered to my face, gripping the cheeks in a panic.

This isn't happening!

This can't be happening!

How could doctors f*ck up this bad!?

I'm not dead!

I'm not dead!

"I'm not dead!"

I kept blasting my fists as hard as I could against my coffin lid, praying for a miracle. A passerby, a mourner, the groundskeeper, _anyone_ who would notice someone's thumping from the ground of a cemetery.

*thunk*

*thunk*

*thunk*

*Crack!*

I squirmed as pound upon pound of dirt poured from the opening and coated my body. I felt like I was suffocating, but in my blind panic all I could think of was: _out_!

I tore at the opening with my fingers, ignoring any splinters, prying apart the boards of the lid and widening the gap. The loose dirt and soil poured in still, but I couldn't think of anything other than getting out of there.

I shimmied my way through the opening and into the dirt. My eyes were closed, but all I knew was that this general direction was up. I kept clawing and clawing at the loose earth around me.

Finally, I pushed my hand upwards.

I felt cold air against my palm.

I was free!

The rest of my body erupted from the surface and I took huge, gulping breaths of air. Tears streamed down my face as I felt the wind on my face and looked upwards at the clear night sky, stars twinkling down at me.

I crawled from the earth and just curled up right there, sobbing in the relief, the terror, the mess of confusion and panic and pain. It must've been an hour before I felt calm enough to start becoming aware of myself.

I looked down at me. My good, black Sunday suit was covered in dirt stains, but I didn't care. It didn't matter. My hands were dirty and a bit raw from clawing at the wood. My sandy blonde hair was filled with clumps of dirt.

It all seemed so trivial compared to just the simple act of breathing fresh air.

I got up and my smile slowly dropped as I took into account one simple fact.

All around me were headstones with an occasional mausoleum popping up.

No buildings were around it.

No signs were put up.

I couldn't even find the name of the Cemetery.

"Where the hell am I now?"

* * *

So, now we get to this point in time.

It turns out the cemetery was smack dab in the middle of nowhere next to an old country road. I wandered around the graveyard until I found a fence edge. After that, it was easy to just follow it around to the main gate.

The gate just led to the old pothole-ridden road I'm dragging my feet along now, so… yeah.

It's better than being stuck six feet under.

I chuckled at how true it was. In comparison, _everything_ was better. School, grocery stores, long car trips, even the dullest class Ms. Burnstein could conjure up about History couldn't compare. I'd take my seat and take notes if I had to.

Nothing could be worse than-

Fire.

…

I had stopped in my tracks.

Our family's religion was a bit odd, but we didn't really like the idea of embalming, so I easily dodged a bullet there. No formaldehyde-blood-transfusion for me.

But my uncle Joey died about a year or two ago. His body was cremated.

Fire and ashes.

How close was I to that?

How close was I to waking up in a burning coffin?

I shuddered as I contemplated it. "_But hey, it didn't happen!_"

I had to smile a bit at the little voice's contribution. I was still here. I was still in one piece! A bit dirty, yeah, but not crumbling ashes and bones! Woot!

Something caught my eye in the distance.

I focused on it and stumbled my way closer. It was a simple, one story building with two cars and a couple motorcycles parked outside.

I smiled weakly at the glowing neon sign that said "Diner".

* * *

I'll admit I was probably one of the more unusual guests to this place. I stumbled in, covered in dirt and grime, but still in my good suit and formal black tie. But given everyone else, I could guess I wasn't _the_ weirdest person to ever stumble in.

In a few booths were two shady guys, smoking with an ashtray in front of them and some coffees. They were glaring at each other and arguing in hushed voices until I walked in. They eyed me like they weren't sure what to make of me before slowly starting to quietly converse again.

The other few were three bikers in the full leather-jacket/bandana thing. It was probably safe to presume they owned the bikes outside. They were seated at the front counter next to some loner who looked like he'd been through something and was here for a pick-me-up… or a last meal.

"Waddayawant, hun." A grimy voice called out.

A woman in her late 50s walked out from behind the counter. Her apron was stained in yellows, browns, and a weird bluish-green stain, too. Her face was caked with makeup that didn't hide the scowl. Her tall, dyed-blonde hair was set into curls that didn't really go with the rest of her face. She clicked her long, red nails against the counter.

I licked my lips. "I-I… I'm lost. I think."

"Ya think?! Kid, you don't just wake up in the middle of buttf**k nowhere without _some_ idea of how ya got there!" She exclaimed. A couple patrons chuckled.

I stuttered, "I-I just need to make a call, ma'am."

"Well, sweetie, sorry but the phone's been down all week. Storm took out the lines." She said dismissively. She looked back at me. "You gunna buy something or just stand there, tracking in dirt, brat?!"

I jolted and nervously started waking up to the bar area. I sat a seat or two away from the loner at the very edge of the counter, but he still sent me suspicious glares from time to time.

The waitress, "Diana" the nameplate said, still eyed me as she brought out a mug and set it in front of me. I started to stutter how I didn't have money on me, but she waved it off. "Coffee's free. It's crap, but it's free."

She walked away and leaned over flirtatiously to one of the bikers. She wrote down something they asked for before yelling something to the overweight man smoking a cigar in the kitchen. It sounded like some kind of code words that made absolutely no sense at all. The man shouted something back and started putting something on the grill.

"So, kid, where're you from?" The loner asked, still eyeing me. The smell of something greasy and fatty burning wafted through the kitchen opening.

"I- uh… Minnesota… I think."

The entire diner laughed riotously. "Well, o' course yer in Minnesota! Hell, we all are! 'Cept me, good old Texas is mine. I meant where specifically."

"I-I-I dunno." I stammered out.

"You dunno?" I shook my head again. "Well that is a damned shame, ain't it?"

They went back to their coffees, silently sipping while sending me odd looks from time to time. I couldn't help it. I fidgeted with the creamer and sugar packets.

Diana scowled when she saw I didn't drink the coffee, "What, kid, not good enough for ya?"

I stammered out something unintelligible (and unintelligent) before taking a sip and almost choking on the taste. Grits and bits of coffee beans rolled around like sand on my tongue.

She barked out a laugh, "Told ya it was crap." Before walking off to take care of something else.

I glanced longingly at a piece of pie under a glass dome, but kept to myself. I remembered the Greeks buried their dead with coins. Something about payment for the ferryman to the afterlife. Shame that it didn't hold true for Americans. I could've really used some money right now.

I heard a tiny *click* sound and saw Diana was trying to get her lighter to go for a white cigarette stuck in between her lips. After the fifth click, the fluid caught and a tiny flame flickered-

Fire.

I noticed my anxiety increasing and looked away quickly. I knew it didn't happen, but it was still anxiety provoking to think that I came that close to being roasted alive!

She chuckled, "What's the matter? 'Fire bad!' or somethin'?"

I shook my head and took another sip of coffee, dreading the taste.

I reached out for the sugar packets and saw a tiny cockroach crawl out from between. I blinked at how it seemed to stare at me like the beetle.

I nervously waved my fingers an inch from it in an attempt to startle it away. It didn't move.

I examined the thing closely. I tilted my head and it seemed to mirror it. Its antennae twitched up and down almost like it was greeting me for something.

SMACK!

I jumped as a rolled up menu suddenly came down hard on top of it. Diana scowled at the stain before shouting at the cook about more 'damned roaches'.

I felt uneasy.

I don't know why and I couldn't really explain it, but I felt almost a… connection with that bug.

I felt angry that she smacked it.

I felt angry that she _killed_ it.

A small part of my mind was shouting how it was just a stupid cockroach and they die all the time, but another part of me kept thinking I'd just seen the equivalent of another human being crushed by a giant roll of paper by a giantess.

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

I looked up at the woman and was surprised to notice my eyebrows were creased together, my jaw was tense, and my hands visibly shaking.

I took a deep rattling breath and shook my head angrily.

She walked off, still eyeing me.

'_Why am I so upset?! It was literally a stupid cockroach!_' I thought to myself, but I couldn't shake the feeling.

And I was hungry.

Really hungry.

Like, _really_ hungry.

"Augh!"

I looked up and saw Diana looking around at her feet. About twenty or so cockroaches were seeping out of the cracks of the counter and approaching her feet.

She angrily stomped on them, but more and more kept coming out of the cracks. From behind the walls, the signs, and under the floor tiles. A swarm of them came under the men's bathroom door.

"Stan! Get the Raid!" She shouted over the clicking of insects. By now, the other patrons had abandoned their meals and similarly started to step on the insects.

Roaches from higher up, like the menu signs or the light fixtures began gliding on their wings into the faces and arms of the other patrons. They scrambled madly, whacking at as many as they could get.

"F*ck! They're biting!" A biker exclaimed, swatting and struggling under the roaches.

One of the shifty guys in the booth stumbled blindly towards the glass door. However, once he opened it, the entire restaurant was flooded with a swarm of crickets, grasshoppers, flies, bees, wasps, and spiders crawled along the walls from the forest around them.

The chef came through the swinging door wildly waving a hot pan around, smacking and scorching whatever came through, but he couldn't see from the insects covering his eyes. He slipped and fell face-first into the frying pan. The insects didn't care and started swarming his downed body.

The waitress shrieked in fear and pain as she wiped off enough of the insects to show that her arm was gashed beyond belief with muscles and a hint of bone showing. More bugs swarmed over her and she stumbled to the floor.

I just stared in horror.

First the beetle in my room and now this! The bugs must be revolting! Down with the era of the apes!

I looked down at my arm and saw insects, ants, flies, and spiders crawling up them.

I sat stock-still, resigning to my fate. If it was a nightmare, that would be ideal. Just waking up in my bed with my mom shouting up to get breakfast First thing I'd do would be to toss that stupid beetle in the yard; new species or not. Worst case scenario, this is real and I get eaten.

Wow, that escalated pretty quickly.

I flinched as a cockroach flitted its wings, but just sat where it was. The more adventurous ones poked their antennae or legs into my nose or ears. I didn't care how unmanly it was, I whimpered a bit.

I just sat at my stool, surrounded by the sounds of crunching and munching from downed figures covered over by insects. My own body was covered in the roaches and flies among other things.

Now it was just a waiting game.

…

…

I really wish Diana at least had a TV or radio in this place.

* * *

…

A slug was in my coffee.

…

That should be a good indication.

I had a coffee in front of me and I was situated at the far end of the café furthest from the doors.

The insects from the forest came in through the door a good 10 feet from here. A slug could only come from the forest.

So, enough time passed for a slug to get from wherever it was in the forest, through the doorway, across the diner floor, up the counter, and take a nice Jacuzzi in my probably luke-warm or stone-cold coffee.

The sun didn't come up though. I risked slowly turning my head and saw the sky out the window didn't get any lighter out, so it wasn't terribly far in the AM hours… probably.

I wanted it over at this point!

Just eat me, dammit!

Am I not delicious to you?! Does the smell of grave dirt deter you?! Is my teenage body odor really _that bad_?!

I wanted it over with!

It was torturous!

They'd already eaten the other patrons. The bugs stopped crawling around the skeletons a while ago and now just hung around, I assume, to play in the cavities. For probably hours I just sat watching the skeleton of Diana lying on the floor, jaw open in a silent scream as cockroaches, flies, worms, and miscellaneous wriggled in and out of the calcium-rich supports.

At one point, a couple of worms popped out of her nose cavity and I morbidly remembered that stupid song 'the worms play pinochle on your snout'.

I felt like crying, to be honest. Heck, these might be my last moments, so I figured I may as well be honest with myself. Yeah, I felt like crying.

What's worse, having a quick death that you don't see coming or at least have very little knowledge of it happening, like getting flattened by a bus or being on a balcony that collapses underneath you, or having a slow, delayed death like cancer or terminal illness or starvation?

Arguably, I think I'd prefer just getting eaten by the swarm pretty quickly rather than play a waiting game for the other shoe to drop.

*click*

*ding!*

The door opened!

"NO! Don't come in!" I shouted, too afraid to turn around. The insects stayed where they were, but I didn't know if the stranger was already dead or not.

"They'll eat you… please, get help." I whimpered, pleadingly.

_I believe I _can_ help_.

I shuddered at how it seemed to be heard, but at the same time, not heard.

I risked it and slowly turned my head.

My mouth gaped open slightly at the sight that I saw.

A tall man in a black suit and tie stood at the entrance, his arms straight at his sides.

Normally, that wouldn't be unusual, I mean _I'm_ wearing a suit out here.

But this guy had no face!

It was completely blank and empty like a sculpture where the artist got lazy and never chiseled out any defining features besides the bare-bones basic structure of a head.

The insects formed a small barrier around him. At his feet, the bugs formed a perfect circle of clear linoleum about a foot from him in any direction as though they were afraid to scuff his shiny, black shoes. The ones in the air avoided him and his direct line of sight with me.

My eyes stung painfully and my lower jaw trembled.

"A-are you-… are you gunna kill me now?" I asked. Stupid, yeah, I know, but first there were killer bugs and now I'm talking to a faceless _thing_ in a suit. At the very least I expected to die.

I didn't expect him to walk over to me and sit down on the next stool over. He casually glanced at the skeletal loner that slumped in the seat next to him before turning to me.

He seemed to notice my discomfort, what with the insects all over me, and waved his hand in a "shoo-ing" manner. I felt a tiny tingle of something; like at the dentist when there's an X-ray and you "feel" the ray out of paranoia.

The bugs scattered off of me and I breathed a huge sigh of relief at my bug-free body.

I looked over at the entity still staring silently at me, seeming to analyze who I was like some curiosity. My back just slumped down and I found my head against the counter (also cleared of any insects, save for the slug still in my drink).

A brave few cockroaches stood in front of me, looking up at me.

_Go away_. I thought angrily.

To my surprise, they all scattered uniformly away from the countertop. My mind paused for a second. Could it really-

_Come back_.

The same few cockroaches came right back in front of me. I racked my mind for a second.

_Make a square_.

Give me a break; it was the first shape that came to mind besides "squiggly line" which was too generic to work.

There were only three cockroaches, but a fourth one came up and completed the square formation in front of me.

_Bring me a sugar packet_.

A cockroach walked across the table towards the sugar packet stand and ambled around it, but so did a few others. In a few minutes they were scrambling over the packets, ripping them open and consuming the sugar inside.

I felt like I lost that connection for a minute.

*clink*

I looked over in surprise.

The entity had black tentacles out of his back. One of which had lifted the glass dome off the display and another was adeptly using a silvery pie server to put a piece of the key lime pie in front of me.

"T-thank you." I said confusedly, picking up a fork from the stand next to me.

The figure nodded.

_Why don't you tell me your story in exchange? I'm sure it will be rather fascinating_.

I didn't know how to respond. I didn't know this guy and he just hands me some pie and asks for my life's story.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked boldly.

The entity chuckled. _From that display with the insects, I surmised you were influencing them. I know others similar to you. Those who are… different. I could take you to them_.

I was tempted for the offer, but…

"I need to find my parents, first. They're probably-"

_Child, check your pulse, please_.

Okay, that was a really weird request. I put my fingers up to my neck. This guy was seriously-

Wait.

…

…

Nothing.

Nothing!

Oh my God! I didn't have a pulse! I pushed my fingers further in, shifting around trying to find the vein.

I put a hand over my heart. I didn't feel the comforting rhythmic beat.

I felt like I was going to faint.

A tentacle pushed the pie closer to me. I didn't know what else to do, so I just took a forkful and chewed mechanically. For a pretty unsavory character, Diana did make a good key lime pie.

So, my options; I could walk home and my parents are like 'Yay, son you're alive! Hugs, kisses, and Denny's all around!' or they could be like 'Oh! Son! Why does your apparition haunt us?'… or they could go zombie-movie on me and blow my head off.

"How did you know?" I asked weakly.

_The Living tend to have a certain 'feel' or 'presence' to them._

That made sense, I guess. I mean I'm dealing with a pretty unknown entity, so… it made as much sense as anything.

So I was dead.

But how-

That God damned beetle!

I put a hand to my heart again and concentrated. The small feeling of "blue" came up again and I could "see" the tiny beetle latched onto my very-still heart, still dead though.

The entity next to me started, breaking the emotionless composure with surprise.

_You…_

"What?" I asked suspiciously as he trailed off.

_Nevermind. I believe I can help you. I don't believe I can undo whatever has happened, but I believe I can help you learn how to control this and prevent… this_-

It gestured to the skeletal remains of the diner patrons.

_-from happening again. Will you please come with?_

I sat in silence, thinking. On one hand, some freaky faceless thing comes up to me and offers to take me away. That screams 'stranger danger' without the facelessness added. However, I didn't have anywhere else to go. People would call me a freak if they found out and I'd probably end up on a lab table under a couple scalpels. This guy hadn't threatened me so far. He just offered me pie… plus, if I had to, I could defend myself with totally badass bug mind control.

I squinted slightly at the gastropod soaking in my coffee.

'Do my bidding, slug!'

The slug flopped against the ceramic mug in response.

…

Maybe not so helpful with the more "slimy" insect species, but the hornets and bees would totally be worthwhile.

"Alright. Just let me finish the pie." I said, smiling at the somewhat inappropriate humorous moment.

_How about you tell me your name?_

"What's the point, I'm dead, so my name's pretty much useless too. It doesn't feel right, y'know? Calling myself that after it was put on an epitaph. Maybe it's just me."

_You can choose your own name, you know_.

I thought it over. It was promising. I was named after an entymologist. What was his name again? Brady? Brandon?

I put my hand out to the entity to shake. "Brahm. Nikolaus Brahm. Call me Nick."

* * *

***Outside the Confines of Space-Time***

**=We open to a vast whiteness with a large gate with the picture of a blank human shape and an image of an immaculate, sinful being labeled "Mary Sue". The Smiling Crow stands in the void of white… it's really boring…=**

**=We see a grinning, white being sitting cross-legged in front of the individual=**

**"Welcome, Mr. Al-che-mist."**

**The figure blinks. "I'm not an alchemist."**

**The Truth frowned. "Wait, wha-? So what are you then?"**

**The figure tilts its head in thought. "Well, I suppose I am, in a _sense,_ an alchemist. My major is in chemistry which is a modern evolved form of Alchemy, but with less philosopher stone… and arrays… and magic."**

**The Truth waves his hand dismissively. "That doesn't count. The whole Equivalent Exchange is handled with the chemicals and equipment. There's no human soul in the equation… wait! No! You're off track! Why are you here?"**

**"Oh, well, I'm a writer-"**

**"Ah! So you activated the Forbidden Array of OCs?" Truth deduced.**

**"Yeah, like, a couple of chapters ago. In the AN introduction part. Wow, it's been a while. How long was I in that void?"**

**"So you created humans from nothing." Truth's face split in a wide grin. "Well, that's my specialty! So, what's the price of a human soul?"**

**The figure shrugs. "I dunno. Those guys' souls don't really exist, either… well, I did put a little bit of myself in each of them…" The figure's eyes light up in realization. "They're like my horcruxes, but without the whole murder part and evil magic!"**

**"Wait, your what-now?" Truth deadpans.**

**Crow waves the thought away. "Eh, you'd have to know the fandom."**

**"So, anyway, what's the price of a human soul?"**

**"Hmmm. Well, that begs the questions; what is a soul? Is there a soul? And, finally, do a bunch of storybook characters have souls? Seriously, not enough Satanic cults or magical masterminds trying to fiddle with weird circles? I don't see Neil Gaiman or J.K. Rowling dealing with this."**

** "Huh, I guess that's true… Geez, I'm at a loss. I'm supposed to take something from you as a toll or some shit like that…"**

**…**

**"I have a stick of gum."**

**…**

**"Eh, sure."**

* * *

***Crackling of electricity before The Smiling Crow appears above the Forbidden Array of OCs***

**"… Hey, that bastard took the spearmint! Those were my favorite! I was offering up the fruity stuff! I shall avenge you, my beloved Trident piece of gum!"**

**Anyway, glad to be back! I was getting worried, too. Those pre-recorded messages are only supposed to last, like, three or four chapters.**

**Still sick, though, but I hope you enjoyed this update!**

**I designed Nick based upon examining a few personal fears; parasitophobia (fear of parasites/living creatures in the body), taphophobia (fear of being buried/cremated alive), and claustrophobia (fear of tight, enclosed, or inescapable spaces).**

**I actually turned off the lights and put my body lying up against a wall with a blanket over me to simulate the feeling of pounding on/touching a solid surface while being completely enclosed. Once I got into the mindset of someone trapped in a box/coffin, it actually resulted in a mild panic attack or two, but it was worth it to get a sense of what to write for the coffin scene.**

**His character was also heavily influenced by SCP-439. An insect that takes over the human host and forces it to act as an "anthill" or "hive" for itself. It was also almost directly influenced by an obscure pasta I found online with a similar concept of an insect hive possessing someone. If anyone knows which one I'm talking about, I'd appreciate it if you could tell me so I can properly credit them.**

**Nikolaus Brahm was an entymologist in the late 18th and early 19th centuries responsible for documenting species of butterfly and beetle and writing a book. I just found him and liked the name after doing a Wikipedia search for lists of entomologists/zoologists.**

**Thank you for enjoying the story!**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

* * *

**ALERT!**

**Thank you to everyone who voted on the Polls and especially those who sent reviews and PMs to help me fix it! **

**Well, this is embarrassing, but… It turns out, the second poll I put together had something weird and no one could vote on it (and I'm sorry to say I didn't check up on it until recently), however, I think I fixed it, so I'm closing the poll for Harry's name and the poll for Harry's weapon should be posted on my account! I'm going to leave this poll up until the next update which, at this point, is indeterminate, but it should go until next week at the least (around 4/17/16).**

**Thank you to everyone for following the story and enjoying it!**

**…**

**Poll Results:**

*****Lamp –Eyes: 14**

**Shadow: 9**

**Scath: 8**

**Cain: 4**

**Kane: 3**

**…**

**Lamp-eyes takes the lead with 36%! It has been decided! *thunder clap***

**…**

**Weapons**

***Wires/jump cables in tandem with BRVR: 6**

***Hallucinogenic cloud: 2**

***Hatchet: 2**

***Knives: 2**

***Monstrous Assembly of Death: 3**


	18. New Arrivals

**Note: Edit: I know it seems a little mercurial, but I've spent the last few weeks evaluating my decision on "Aiden/Aidan" vs. "Adrian". I finally got around to hearing the name and "feeling" the name. I wrote it out by hand a few times. In the end, "Aiden/Aidan" never seemed really _right_, but even after 100 repetitions, "Adrian" still fit.  
**

* * *

**AN: Hey, I'm sorry I sounded kind of snarky in my last AN, but in my defense, it was a really… _really_ long week.**

**Some days are slow, some days are fast-**

**And still most days I want to kick Einstein's sorry ass for ever saying 'time is relative'. Reading for half an hour turns into a whole three hours while my hour-and-a-half lecture on thermodynamics seems to last all afternoon.**

**Sometimes I honestly wonder if the Physics Department managed to break the time-space continuum around campus and didn't tell anybody about it.**

**It does make you wonder what happened to Professor Lutece…**

* * *

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

**-Crow**

**P.S. Happy Anniversary to the Fic! 4/25/2016**

* * *

Harry descended down the rope into the dark chasm almost a full mile beneath the earth. It was pitch black outside of a tiny beam that followed his face. His only source of light was a bright bulb on a hard hat. His blue-gray jumpsuit was caked in light reddish-brown clay and mud as he'd spent the last few hours sliding along the floor, walking through the caves, or descending on ropes like this one.

It was a little-known cave system out in Washington State. The entrance was well hidden and under a protected forest preserve. That was mostly good fortune on the Americans' part that they cordoned off this entire location for a preserve. Any major construction here would've resulted in massive casualties.

The area was populated by small, thin gremlin-like creatures that liked to live underground. Slendy said they resembled a population in Europe from the reports of survivors. These reports just started up last spring and he'd been sent on a solo-mission to examine the area and these creatures.

The ones in Europe had a habit of finding hikers, campers, or wanderers and dragging them into their lair as a welcome change in diet from cave bats and the occasional deer. Unfortunately, that posed a problem to the secrecy of the Underrealm and they needed to be negotiated with. In exchange, they'd get regular shipments of goat meat or controlled portions of human meat.

Slendy taught him the ins and outs of this. He considered himself quite the diplomat.

* * *

"SHIIIITTT!"

Harry pulled out a flare and it immediately erupted in bright red sparks. He waved it behind him at the crowd of hungry, little gremlins. The creatures' sensitive eyes were in agony over the relatively bright flare light.

They looked like emaciated, little elves with longer bones and sharp claws. They had no hair on them at all and crude loincloths barely covering themselves. Their eyes were enormous and a cloudy white without any hint of a pupil and reflected light like a mirror.

To think, he thought these things were cool!

* * *

***Flashback***

_Harry entered a large chamber of the cavern. A few beautiful crystal formations stuck out at odd angles, but most of the cavern was partially flooded, leaving bare, patchy islands of muddy land. He waved his flashlight around the cavern._

_*skitter*_

_He quickly turned around, aiming the beam with him. The bright circle of light landed on a pale creature which shrieked in surprise and pain before scuttling behind a stalagmite and shielding its eyes. Harry turned off the lamp and instead took out a small tube. He cracked the tiny glass vial inside and shook the chemicals, making it glow a faint blue._

_It took some time for his eyes to adjust and in that time, the creature also cautiously poked its head from behind the shelter of the rock formation._

_When it fully came out, Harry was ecstatic to see it looked almost exactly like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. Right down to a creepy, phlegmmy cough on occasion._

_Harry licked his lips, "Hello?" His soft voice echoed in the chamber. The creature seemed to regard him carefully. "I come in peace?" He tried again._

_The creature simply stared at the young boy, tilting its head slightly. It made a gooey hacking sound and despite cringing, Harry almost distinctly heard a 'gol-lum' sound to it. He smirked, unable to resist. "It cannot be seen, cannot be felt; cannot be heard, cannot be smelt; it lies behind stars and under hills and empty holes it fills; it comes first and follows after; ends life and kills laughter."_

_The creature just made a few clucking sounds in the back of its throat still staring at the young human in front of it._

_Suddenly, it lunged straight at him. Harry dodged and the pale figure went flying into a puddle before skittering to right itself and turn back with a displeased scowl exposing its few, but very sharp teeth. He had to dodge another swipe with its long claws._

_Harry loudly proclaimed, "I'm here on behalf of the Council of the Underrealm. Please cooperate under the Treaty of- oh jeez!" He ducked as the thing found a decently-sized rock to chuck at his head. "Okay, so…"_

_He heard skittering from behind him and twisted just in time to jump out of the way of a second creature's attack, aiming to impale his organs from behind. The other gremlin, upset about missing, scuttled over to the first and glared him down with lamp-like eyes._

_Like termites out of woodwork, five more Gollum-creatures crawled out from behind the rock formations or from hidden caves._

_Harry remembered the first encounter with these beings and quickly turned on his small headlamp. The reaction was instantaneous. The second any of the creatures were hit by the beam or even near the beam, the scrambled to get away from it, covering their eyes. By then, he'd made a pretty good circle of safety around himself and was backing towards the exit._

_Harry gave a soft chuckle, "You didn't even try to answer my riddle. The answer was-"_

_*bz*_

_*bz-bzt*_

_His lamplight flickered and began dimming. He shook it and tapped it against his palm, but it only succeeded in making it dimmer._

_The creatures seemed to sense his agitation and slowly approached closer, fearing the steadily dimming light less and less._

_"…darkness…"_

_*bzt-ch!*_

_The lamp died out._

* * *

He tossed another blazing flare down in their path and quickly lit another, running in the opposite direction. He reached to his side and pulled out a grappling gun. He checked around, confirming the gremlins' scuttling was still far enough away.

He aimed the three-pronged hook at the top of the ledge, for a particular stalagmite. The hook shot out of the end and managed to latch onto the rock formation. A few quick tugs confirmed that it would hold. He hazarded a glance backwards, the miniature Gollum creatures were starting to gather speed, their lamp-like eyes reflecting his flare light.

He pressed a button on the gun and the retracting mechanism made a whirring noise as the slack in the rope was pulled in. He felt a jerk on his arm and was grateful for his strong grip.

"Farewell, Smeagol! Good luck catching this 'tricksy hobbitses'!" He did his best impression towards the end as his voice echoed in the expanse with his laughter as the angry little gremlins jumped around, chattering incoherently at the spot where he used to be.

Harry eventually made it to the top. The hook unlatched from the spot and spun back into the gun. He slowly caught his breath and dusted himself off.

"Well, that went-"

*clatter*

…

*skitter*

…

He pulled out another flare from his pocket.

He pulled off the white cap and ignited the stick.

Around him were fifty or so gremlins crawling on the walls like dwarven, pale, practically-naked spidermen. Their lamp-like eyes hungrily reflecting off of the red glow.

…

* * *

He finally crawled out of the hole in the ground, gasping and panting for air. His sleeve got torn, but it didn't go through. The rest of his suit was largely intact save for some scrapes and cuts. He lost the grappling gun in the abyss at one point, so Slendy wouldn't be too happy about that one.

Still, the blinding light of the afternoon September sun was welcome and he just lay in the middle of the grassy clearing concealing the entrance, just enjoying the sun after hours of being stuck underground.

He could hear the faint squeals of the creatures still echoing below, but even within 20 yards of the entrance was too painful for their eyes. They never risked a daytime adventure, they'd be blinded.

He stood up from his resting spot and trudged through the tall grass, feeling the buzzing pull of the Operator Symbol. Eventually he made it to a small stone outcrop and walked around until he found the familiar symbol etched deeply into the rock under some moss.

He pressed against it and felt the wooshing sensation of Slender-Port. Within seconds the pine woods of the Pacific Northwest were replaced with the deciduous woods of New York and the small, raised dais in the center. Harry trudged along the paths back to the manor, already missing the sun in the night time-zone shift.

Opening the back door, he called out. "I'm home!"

The raven-haired 10-year-old shrugged off his muddy pack in an alcove in the mud room. He'd clean it off and sort through the contents later. Right now, he just needed to report to Slendy, take a shower, eat something that wasn't a protein bar, and sleep until October.

He pulled off the muddy jumpsuit and boots, too, walking around in some old jeans and an old t-shirt. "Slendy?"

_"I'm in the dining room."_

He walked in the room and saw Slenderman sitting at the table with a new face he hadn't met before. The guy was probably around 12 or 13 and was concentrating angrily on a sugar cube placed on the table. Harry briefly contemplated just what exactly the cube of glucose could have said/done to deserve that intense stare.

"Hey, Slendy, I'm here to report." He said calmly, still glancing at the newcomer and the cube.

_"Very well. Begin."_

"My assignment was to investigate and possibly negotiate with the gremlins of a Washington State cave system due to a few reports of campers and hikers mysteriously disappearing in the area this past summer.

"In my investigation, I discovered that they had recently been woken up from a hibernation state in the depths of the cave due to global warming heating a mountain's ice cap and causing the hibernation chamber to flood, triggering their revival." Harry informed.

Slenderman nodded. _"I see. Were they receptive to negotiations?"_

"Let's just say negotiations broke down due to lack of food. And after 3000 years or so, I looked pretty tasty."

_"Hmm. The European gremlins were much more civilized. I didn't realize these would be so aggressive."_

"Don't worry, it was nothing I couldn't handle." Harry assured the entity. "Anyway, from what you reported, I think these are a pre-evolved or under-evolved variation of the species compared to the European version, considering they've been in hibernation so long. They didn't talk, so much as chatter or screech. They were extremely sensitive to light, though. I used a lot of flares… I, er, also lost a grappling hook gun. Sorry."

_"And that will come out of your allowance."_ Slendy replied calmly, motioning for him to continue despite Harry's groan.

"Eventually, I managed to get out but angered a nest of what must've been at least 150 of them." Harry informed his guardian.

The faceless being mulled over the information, nodding. "_I will send out some people to possibly render them unconscious. Possibly by flooding the caves with a mild tranquilizer gas. Then, we will see about moving their hibernation chamber and cooling it down or exterminating them as a threat."_

Harry nodded. These things were aggressive and the preserve wasn't too far away from a couple of towns. Bad things happen when the less-conserved/concealed creatures ran amok.

"_Anyway, Harry, allow me to introduce Nikolaus._" The being gestured a pale hand towards the teen who had looked up from his sugar cube, eyebrows in his blonde hairline.

"Wait, you're a kid!" He exclaimed. Harry felt a tic above his eyebrow.

"I'm 10, thank you very much, and I'm perfectly capable of being on my own." Harry replied curtly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," The other replied, "I meant, it's surprising that you're dealing with those things. They didn't seem friendly."

Harry's mouth quirked. "Well, as I said, I'm perfectly capable of being on my own."

"Sorry. Um… So, yeah, my name's Nikolaus Brahm, without a "c" and with a "u" and "k", but just call me Nick… with a "c" and "k"."

Harry blinked, putting together the name in his head before nodding. "Okay, Nick; name's Harry. Harry Potter."

"Cool. So… you're British…"

"Yes. I keep the accent. I like it." Harry answered. "I've picked up some American "slang" and habits, but overall it's still proper English."

Nick nodded, but then froze and scrutinized him up and down. "Wait a minute. Are you even human?" He asked warily. "I mean, you _look_ like a kid, but you just took on something called a gremlin or goblin or something and, I mean, Mr. Slenderman isn't exactly human, is he?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced at his guardian. "_Nikolaus has been with us for a few hours, Harry, so he's still adjusting_." Slendy explained. Harry nodded and confirmed to Nick that he was, in fact, human.

"Wow, three new people in just a week. That's different." Harry commented. Seeing Nick's silent question, he explained. "I was the last person brought to the mansion and that was… almost three years ago now."

"Wow, so you really don't get a lot of new people, do you?" Harry shook his head. "Who are the others?"

"_Well, there's Shiloh who arrived about five or six days ago. She's staying in her room for the time being, getting up to speed with the world. She's been isolated her entire existence. The other is Adrian who arrived just yesterday, actually. The last, of course, is yourself._" Slender counted off.

Harry glanced at the boy and grinned, "So, how many people have you met thus far?"

Nick shrugged. "Just Slenderman and you so far. Why?"

"Well, just brace yourself. There are a lot of other people who aren't exactly human… anymore." He said, sending a silent prayer to the Creator for somebody- anybody- to walk in right now.

"Hello, Slendy."

He sent up a tiny 'thank you' as Sally walked in, bear in hand and blood smeared on her face. Nick yelped and scrambled in his seat, resulting in him toppling the chair over and groaning on the floor. He blinked away the confusion and stared worriedly at Sally.

"Is she alright?!" Sally just tilted her head quizzically. "I mean, she's dripping blood and, oh my God, her head's caved in!"

Harry snickered quietly at Sally's indignant pout. "Don't be angry, Sally, he literally just got here. It's alright, Sally's dead. She's a ghost… kind of. The blood's normal."

"Oh… I take it she's an example of the less-than-human ones?" Sally's eyes glowed green as she glared angrily. He had the decency to look embarrassed. "Sorry about that. Er… um… I can relate. I guess I'm dead too."

Sally's eyes stopped glowing and widened. Nick nodded. "It's true. One minute, I'm living life normally, the next I wake up in my coffin and crawl to the surface with no pulse. But… I'm still in my body… so, I guess I'm a zombie?"

Harry snickered. "No, you're not. At least I don't think you are. Believe me, when we deal with zombies, there's a lot that you don't have; unless you've acquired a recent craving for human flesh?"

"Not that I know of…" He trailed off uncertainly, running his hand over the back of his head. His other hand twitched back from a small colony of ants scuttling across the table.

"_Ah, excellent, now we can continue._" Slenderman spoke. "_Now, please concentrate on the ants._"

Harry and Sally pulled up a chair, watching the young teen staring at the ants. Harry thought he looked rather constipated, causing him to barely suppress a sudden snort of laughter. Though, they both were stunned as the ants began moving in perfectly coordinated motions.

About five or so surrounded the sugar cube while the other ten formed markers for a path for them going up to a small cup of tea. Slowly, the ants lifted the cube as one and began walking in the direction of the "road". Nick grimaced as a few centimeters in, the ants veered off course and "smashed through the wall" between two ants. He twitched, trying to get the ants back on track, but only succeeded in making the rest confused and scattering randomly across the table.

With a huff, he sat back in his chair, the ants scurrying back into a more natural formation. "It's hopeless." He muttered angrily.

"_Don't despair. You did well with the cockroaches. I believe it may be too many minds to focus on at once._" Slender replied. "_It's all about control. Requesting the ants to do something and letting them work around towards making it happen. After that, it's just fine-tuning and shaping their coordination towards the final result._"

Nick nodded, staring up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts.

"So, Slendy, he said he was dead, is he? He seems really alive." Harry commented.

The entity hummed in thought, drawing the attention of Nick as well. "_Well, I suppose he's neither. Or rather both. He puts the cat to shame as I believe he is both dead _and_ alive._"

"Suck it Schrodinger." Harry murmured.

"_Though, yes, he is not "alive" by medical terminology. In fact, by all standpoints he's very, very dead. However, he is still "alive" in that his essence or soul is still stuck in there and his body is still "functioning" on some degree._"

Nick frowned. "Wait, what do you mean, my body is still functioning?"

"_Well, your heart is stopped. Your digestive system is probably dysfunctional was well. E.J. confirmed you don't have traditional neurological activity. However, you do have your original soul inhabiting your body and your body still shows signs of metabolism, albeit weak, so it doesn't look like your body is going to putrefy any time soon._"

"So… I'm a ghost puppeteering my own body? I'm just controlling my old meat bag body, hoping it doesn't rot on me?"

"_Crudely put, but yes, in essence that is what you are. However, I don't believe you need to worry about rot. Yes, perhaps some anti-fungal cream and maybe an antibiotic or two will help, but from the tests we can say that your body will sustain itself well enough._"

Nick leaned further back in his chair, his eyes vacant as he took all of this in. Harry took the cue to leave. "Hey, Slendy, I'm going to go upstairs. Come on, Sally." He gestured for the ghostly eight-year-old who nodded and scampered upstairs to her room.

Harry headed down the hallways towards his room. Over the years, it hadn't changed all that much. His furniture was the same as everyone else's, though he had a large bookcase in the corner filled with texts from E.J. as well as fiction books of any genre and sheet music ranging from Adagio to Zauberflote, Bach to Webern, Symphony to Sonata. Slender had allowed him to cultivate a passion for piano in his spare time, though it wasn't as exciting with the limited duet options he had around him.

Laughing Jack was brilliant at the accordion and Jeff was a master with en electric guitar, but Jack's corny tunes and Jeff's heavy metal style didn't accompany classical piano too well.

Against a wall opposite his bed was a region filled with numerous pockmarks around a darboard. It was currently sporting several standard darts, a sharpened pencil, a couple throwing knives, and even one of his dissection scalpels to try to imitate Eyeless Jack's technique.

"Pika Pi!"

His attention was brought up to a cat perch assembly in the corner of the room where BRVR was currently hopping out of his spinning, larger-than-normal hamster-wheel. They were still confused what species he really classified as. His overall appearance was pretty feline as was his tendency to purr and hiss (outside of stating bits of his own name), however he would still munch on things with his forepaws, enjoyed running on a free-spinning wheel for exercise, and Toshio confirmed that the creator of Pokemon specifically classified him as "the electric mouse".

Plus, his diet varied between peaches, fruits, and seeds to bloody, raw meats and organs.

"Hello, BRVR." He said cheerfully, gathering some fresh clothes for the shower. The small electric-type nuzzled against his leg before hopping back on the tiers of the cat perch.

After he'd cleaned off the grime from the cave with a proper shower, the young ward wandered back into his room, pulled on his glasses, and lay on the bed as the small companion trotted over and leapt from the floor to sit down by his head.

He scratched the creature's long, mouse-like ears affectionately. "Sorry, boy, but I couldn't take you along this time. It was muddy, underground, wet-"

BRVR hissed at the mention of water. Another point towards "feline".

"-and it wasn't exactly a job where I expected much of a fight when I initially agreed. I could've used you for the lamp when the batteries wore out, though." He added thoughtfully. BRVR made a small noise of discontent, still bristled at the thought of water and dampness. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that, too.

"So, how was everyone?" He asked conversationally. BRVR made multiple "pika" noises with an occasional "chu" interspersed between and Harry nodded as though anything was actually said. Sometimes he wished the dialogue box was still around at times like these.

"Did you meet that new guy? Er… Adrian? Adam? I just missed seeing him when I left." Harry explained. BRVR shook his head in a rare form of true communication.

Harry had been assigned to the Washington State project and as he was leaving, geared up and ready, Slenderman brought him in through the front door. He looked about 14 or 15 with pale skin and black hair like his own, but with dark, almost black, eyes.

Slenderman didn't say much about him other than a bare introduction that he was likely joining the household. Pretty soon after they arrived, the faceless guardian took the new face towards the basement for E.J.'s standard medical exams. As he passed by, Harry caught a glint of metal under the long sleeves of his hoodie. The new recruit noticed and glared at him before tugging the sleeve further down as he passed by.

After that, he'd been shipped off to Washington for the job. That took almost a full day, so Adam?... Aiden?... Archibald?... had some time to settle in.

He sat up from his bed, suddenly considering it. Harry slipped out of his room as quietly as three years of stealth training could give with BRVR padding along behind. He mentally noted any new rooms and found one that was previously always empty suddenly closed with a small, flickering light coming from underneath the door itself.

He shared a glance with his Pikachu before knocking quietly on the door. The light underneath flared slightly, but no one made any noises towards the door. After a few more seconds, he knocked again. The light flared, but this time with a slight groan. He knocked a third time and was rewarded with angry stomping towards the door before it was wrenched open, revealing a stony-faced teen glaring at him.

The newcomer seemed to realize his emotional state and let in a deep breath before opening his eyes and looking much more neutral and calm. "… Can I help you?" He asked a bit steely.

"Hello, there, I wanted to welcome you!" Harry said cheerily.

"Well, I feel welcomed, now please go away." He curtly replied, slowly closing the door.

"Wait!"

*thunk!*

The new ward opened the door with a raised eyebrow at Harry's shoe blocking the door. Harry took a breath and smiled again, "I wanted to introduce myself to you. You're the first real person that's come here in a while!"

The older boy's eyebrow quirked again, "Didn't Slenderman say someone _else_ arrived here before me?"

Harry nodded hesitantly.

* * *

_"Shiloh, this is Harry-"_

_"Human!"_

_"Huh?"_

_"Shiloh! No! Put that down!"_

_"Die, tiny human!"_

_"Waaaaahhhh! Slendy!"_

_"I will end your reign of despair and wars of terror, horrible human!"_

_"Shiloh!"_

_"Help me! She's mental!"_

* * *

"Let's just say, we didn't exactly get along when we first met." He absently rubbed the spot where her shears almost sliced through his arm. "She's kind-of been grounded to her room, I suppose."

"That would explain why I haven't seen her. Are most of the Mansion's occupants "grounded" at the moment? I haven't met many people aside from Slenderman and that blind doctor."

"Oh, Jack's not blind, just eyeless." Harry explained. The teen's eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of that sentence before blinking and ignoring it. "And most of the tenants are just out on jobs or in their rooms."

Adrian didn't press what "jobs" meant.

"My name's Harry, by the way, Harry Potter." The younger boy held out his hand.

The other stared at it with thinly veiled paranoia and distrust before (somewhat slower than most would consider proper) he grasped it and shook. Harry repressed a shiver at how unnatural and hot his hand felt, like baked clay still just below searing hot from the kiln. "Adrian Thresher. The Harvester."

Harry tilted his head, "Why 'the Harvester', though. I thought 'the Reaper' would be better."

"Reaper is overused." Adrian replied nonchalantly. Harry thought about it and conceded that it did seem like a pretty common theme. He felt a nudge and a tiny spark of electricity on his leg and saw BRVR looking up expectantly. "Oh! I almost forgot," He picked up the mouse pokemon in his arms, "This is BRVR."

The cat-like-mouse gave a feral, wide-mouthed grin at the Harvester-not-Reaper and chirping, "Pika-chu!"

Adrian grunted neutrally at the strange mix of adorable and terrifying currently in the younger boy's arms. Harry set it down and swung back and forth on his heels, looking expectantly at the figure blocking the doorway.

"Soooo, what'cha doin'?" Harry emphasized in his best American accent.

The figure impassively replied, "Meditations."

"Oh! Me too! I do them too!" Harry exclaimed, poking his head around to try to see the inside of the room. Adrian adeptly moved with him to block the younger boy's line of sight beyond the door frame. "Do you use crystals or just a mat? I met this one guy on a job that used a really big bouncy ball he'd sit on, but it looked ridiculous. It looked rather like he'd swallowed a lot of gum and then- Oh! Is that a scythe!?"

Still confused from processing the rapid amount of words that came from the young ward's mouth, the Harvester didn't have time to react as Harry shifted past him and was currently staring in awe at the rusty old scythe held up on the wall with some decorative plate holders.

"Hey! Quit it!" Adrian exclaimed with the first show of emotion so far; anger. Harry absently noticed a candle's flame in the back of the room flaring. The older boy took a breath and resumed talking in a normal tone. "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave, Harry."

"Aww, can't you talk for a little while? You're the newest face that hasn't tried to kill me and the other one's still getting settled and I already saw him." Harry said despondently. Adrian deliberately ignored the 'tried to kill me' bit.

"Ugh. Fine. Okay? I'll answer a question. _One_ question if you promise to leave afterwards." He replied.

Harry nodded. "Yay! Okay, how… about… where are you from?"

Adrian faltered, "A-America? I think."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I can't really remember."

Harry thought and glanced at BRVR, still at his side, before grinning, "Then that question didn't count!" Adrian scoffed, but conceded it was a bit of a cop out. "What was your family like?"

"… I don't know."

"… Hold old are you?"

"I don't know."

"… Did you have any hobbies?"

"I don't know."

…

"What's your favorite color?"

"…"

"Honestly?" Harry said, exasperated. "You don't even know your own favorite color?"

"Well, maybe if I had some quiet I could remember my favorite color! Or perhaps decide on a new one!" Adrian argued. The candle flared again and, once more, the older teen took a deep breath and the candle flame reduced.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in slowly. "I… I apologize. I didn't mean to snap. How about one question that doesn't relate to my personal opinions or past life?"

"… can you remember anything?"

"... heh." Adrian chuckled after a lengthy pause. "I can't fault you for that one. It's a valid question. No. I can't remember anything past a month ago. Even then, I just woke up in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere. No idea how I got there, no idea who I was, either. I just… was."

BRVR's ears tucked downwards, sensing the negative emotions. Harry spoke, "So… I suppose you got this scythe when you woke up?"

"No. I found that in a barn." The older boy chuckled again. "Though it would've been a better story to say I woke up with it. I thought I was in purgatory after a few days there. I mean, I wake up in a field; no memories, no ID, no indications where I am, nothing.

"I found some old farmhouse and camped out there for a while. Eventually, Slender found me and brought me here." Adrian personally felt a bit awkward going further into his admittedly short life story recollections than he'd intended.

"Slender's a good… person? Entity? I'm not entirely sure _what_ he is, but he's a good guy." Harry commented.

Adrian thought a second, "I suppose he could be related to the concept of 'demons', but he seems more like a cosmic entity to be honest. Possibly inter-dimensional from his teleportation and telepathic abilities. Logically, I suppose we could call him a person either way because of his autonomous, self-aware existence."

Harry stared; eyes widened slightly, "Wow. Do you do that a lot?"

The older teen hesitantly nodded, "I… remember things… _sort of_-" he enunciated, seeing Harry's objection forming, "-I know facts. Like trivia facts in those game shows; random tidbits or full subject matters. I like using that knowledge to problem solve things logically. It feels like I've got a connection to the past. Plus, I don't like emotion much."

"Why? Are you one of those Trekkies trying to become the next Mr. Spock?" Harry enquired.

Adrian vaguely wondered why he actually knew what a 'Trekkie' was… and why he'd keep that useless tidbit, too, "No. I just don't like emotions. They aren't too prominent… well, except for-"

"Anger?" Harry guessed.

"Correct. Now, I've answered your question, actually I've graciously answered multiple, so…" Adrian gestured to the open door wordlessly.

Harry slowly walked towards the door, still glancing around. Overall, there wasn't anything save for the scythe and the candle still flickering. "Why do you have a candle?"

"I answered your _one_ question, already. Kindly go." Adrian replied walking over and pushing on the younger boy's back.

Harry leaned backwards and dug his heels in the wood, skidding as he was slowly, but firmly pushed towards the door. "Still, Slendy doesn't like open flames in our rooms." It was true, L.J. had to use hot plates instead of Bunsen burners in his chemistry set and Masky had to keep his smokes outside on the porch or a ways away from the manor itself.

"I confirmed with Slender and it's fine. It's for meditation purposes." Adrian explained, succeeding in getting Harry past the threshold.

"Why meditate with a candle?" Harry asked.

"I like fire."

*click!*

He shut the door firmly in the stunned ten-year-old's face.

…

…

*click*

"Pi!"

*click*

The door briefly opened and a confused BRVR was lightly tossed out between the opening before closing once again. Harry "hmphed" and stared at the door crossly.

He was about to turn away when he caught sight of the candlelight under the crevice glowing and dimming again rhythmically.

He turned to BRVR and held up a finger in the universal "shush" sign. The entity flattened his ears against his head and started prowling close to the hallway carpet. Harry approached the door and focused on the lock. He carefully willed the mechanisms inside to slowly twist and turn-

*click*

He froze, watching and listening for anything that may be a telltale that the click was heard. The light kept dimming and growing at an even pace without break, so he slowly pushed the door soundlessly open.

He peeked his head behind the door and saw Adrian sitting cross-legged in front of the flame with his eyes closed. The flame light flickered steadily, but the intensity grew and diminished with Adrian's breathing.

In. _Flare_.

Out. _Fade._

In. _Flare._

Out. _Fade_.

Harry watched curiously at the almost hypnotic display, but still something felt familiar with each pulse.

He focused on the odd feeling in his chest, still keeping an eye on Adrian's unperturbed face. With each flicker of the candle came an ebb and flow of the feeling.

It felt like-

The young ward's eyes widened.

He quietly closed the door on the unsuspecting teen and slipped back into his room. BRVR tagged along, still completely confused as his new-brother sat on his bed and closed his eyes for a solid five minutes.

Harry slowly let everything fade out of view except for his breathing. Then, he slowly shifted his internal gaze upward towards the amorphous mass of energy in his chest. The energy pulsed slowly, flickering and drifting aimlessly.

He could already say it felt the same, though very different.

His energy felt more like melted chocolate or warm clay. Soft, warm, kneaded, and moldable.

The energy he felt from Adrian had a similar "feel" fundamentally, but his felt like water from a sink left on the hot tap too long. More aggressive, a bit more burning, but still able to flow and change its shape to accommodate things. Even then, when he was meditating, a different analogy came to mind.

It felt like a small campfire flaring and then calming to embers before being fed new oxygen and flaring again. The embers felt cooler, still warm with the underlying threat of fire, but still calmer compared to the roaring flame.

He could still feel the pulse of Adrian from a few bedrooms down, leaking through the walls in the steady, rhythmic flare and fade.

He opened his eyes, meeting BRVR's concerned black ones. He gave the Pokemon a comforting rub against his ears before sitting up. He could still "feel" the faint pulses from there.

Another person with his Ability.

_Flare._

_Fade._

_Flare._

_Fade._

Awesome!

* * *

'_Curses.'_ Slender mentally grumbled. Another bad hand dealt.

It was late at night. The others were either in bed or off for the night, except for the few currently at the kitchen table around him.

The yellow hanging lamp above them put the lamp in a relative island of light. Slenderman was sitting at one end while Toby, Jeff, Brian, Tim, and Eyeless Jack were seated evenly around, jealously hiding their cards from any reflective objects.

The pot was just barely started. About a dollar each as an "ante", so it was just $5 so far. As each of them were technically above legal age (though they definitely didn't show it), he didn't have any reservations over betting with real money. Plus, Nikolaus and Adrian had finally settled in and he could use a break.

Slenderman cautiously observed the ones around him.

Jeff, Tim, Brian, and E.J. were all excellent at poker. Only very subtle hints gave them away; Jeff's throwing finger twitching on a good hand. Tim's shoulders slouching just a tad for a bad hand. Only Brian was really difficult to analyze. He couldn't really get a read on the practically-mute Proxy on a good day, let alone when he was actively working to shield any emotions or reactions.

Plus, he agreed not to "scan" surface emotions. Either way, Proxies knew when he did.

*Twitch*

"I fold."

"I fold."

"Ditto."

_"I fold_."

Toby slouched down angrily grumbling as he raked in the meager winnings and Jeff reshuffled the deck to deal again.

As they began another round, Slender's mind wandered, barely noting his wards' and colleagues' reactions and hands.

Harry had come to him earlier that day with rather interesting news.

* * *

***Flashback***

"Slender!" Harry said, bounding into the room that morning. No one else had decided to get up just yet, so Slender sat at the table with the morning paper and some tea.

He set down his mug and turned to his ward, "_Yes, Harry?_"

"I found someone with my Ability!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

Slenderman's ichor-like blood ran cold at the thought that he'd encountered another witch or wizard during one of the boy's jobs. Images of men and women barging through the wards filled his mind along with his beloved forest and manor burning.

"_A-and where did you meet them_?" He enquired.

"Here at the mansion."

His mind panicked. _By the Balance, they've already breached the wards_!

Harry continued. "I mean, I'm rather certain. I watched him meditate upstairs and 'felt' the same energy from him. We got him recently, didn't we?"

The entity's mind had the distinct impression of the sound of rubber tires screeching to a halt. "_Er… Harry, could you explain just whom you're referring to?_"

"Adrian."

If not for the complete lack of facial features, Slender might've actually shown some aspect of surprise or relief or confusion. Thankfully, he mentally composed himself and responded calmly. "_I see. It's very possible. I'll look into it, but I suppose time will tell_."

Harry nodded and walked away, leaving Slender something new to contemplate over his rapidly cooling cup of Earl Gray.

***Flashback over***

* * *

Considering Nikolaus' "blue energy" as he'd referred to it once, that meant that there were _two_ potential wizards he'd found over the course of just one week. What were the odds?

Adrian's amnesia meant that if he had any formal Wizarding training, he'd likely forgotten it. Still, Nikolaus was 13 or so upon death and reanimation, so it was a mystery why he wouldn't have been accepted by the magical community at 11 as he'd expected Harry to be. Something to ponder at a later date, he supposed.

He was brought back to the game. Jeff had won the last round, earning almost $50 in the process.

The deck was shuffled once more and distributed around. He glanced over at Toby who had just raised his cards to view them.

*Twitch*

His tell-tale neck twitched noticeably to the right. A good hand.

"_I fold_."

"Fold."

"I fold."

"Ditto."

"I'm out, too."

"Oh, come on!" Toby all but shouted as he scraped up enough money to barely buy a candy bar at the gas station. "Every single time! How come you guys are so good?"

The masked proxy and masked doctor glanced at each other through their respective eyeholes. The pale-faced, teenaged killer made a coughing sound that could have been a snicker, but his permanent smile and lidless gray, eyes didn't give any clues. The hooded proxy silently sat with his frowny-face cover hiding anything else.

"Years of practice," the faceless entity replied evenly.

* * *

Eyeless Jack walked back to the basement labs about $25 poorer. He grumbled about bad luck and went into his lab, keen on checking some experiments and readings he'd left going.

He walked in the door to the biology lab and flipped on the light. He pulled off his mask and casual, black hoodie and pulled his normal, white lab coat over his shoulders. He stifled a yawn and walked over to a small bed of mold in a glass enclosure.

He pulled out a clipboard and began his measurements. "Okay… fungal growth, none. Approximate increase in mold colony size… hmm.. I'll call that 4 centimeters radius. Color variations, none…"

He went on for a few more minutes, checking off boxes and adding details for anything else. He finished that up and spent a few more minutes checking on several other (unchanged) experiments. Finally, he sat back at his desk chair and sighed, ready for bed.

He pulled off the lab coat and muttered in annoyance finding a stain from the mold experiment on his shirt. He quickly pulled it off before pulling on a spare he kept in a locker in the corner. He walked over and put on his black hoodie-

"Oh, is that it?"

He flailed with the hoodie still half-on and finally managed to get his head through the hole to see Shiloh sitting upright at the examination table half-hidden in the dark.

"Shiloh!" His voice cracked slightly, still frantically pulling his arms through the sleeves of his hoodie. "What- How- Why- Augh!"

The patchwork girl tilted her head slightly, "I believe none of those were coherent questions. I don't believe that last one even qualified as a word."

"N-no it's just- why are you here?"

She straightened. "You requested me to come here 'tomorrow at 2'. So I arrived here at 2."

Jack hazarded a glance at the glowing digital clock in the corner and groaned. "When people say 2 or really any number generally lower than 9 when referencing a time, they mean 2 in the afternoon. 2 PM, not 2 AM."

"I see. That would explain why the examination was so short." She nodded.

"Wait- wha-? What examination?" He paused, suddenly flushing a dark purple to his blue-gray/black complexion. "And how long were you here, exactly?"

"I arrived here exactly 34 minutes before you arrived. I kept watch on the clock. You proceeded to remove your hoodie and perform experiments in your lab coat. After the experiments, you removed both your coat and your shirt and-"

Jack blushed harder. "Okay! Okay. Thank you, Shiloh. Next time, please announce your presence or something."

"I see… Shall I return for the examination in 12 hours?" She asked innocently.

The eyeless doctor sighed, "No, no, it's fine. Just let me put back on my coat." He quickly pulled off his hoodie (careful to keep his shirt from riding up) and pulled on his lab coat before turning on the overhead operating lights to the examination table.

Shiloh lay down at the cold metal, but either didn't really feel the frigid bite or didn't comment. Jack cleared his throat and adopted his clinical attitude. He started by pulling out a clipboard and asked a few questions.

"So, Shiloh, how have you been?"

"Fine, doctor."

He chuckled, "You don't really have to be that formal. Just call me Jack. It's fine."

"Very well, Doctor Jack, I've been fine."

The questions continued. Mostly questions on personal adjustment to the house, any interactions with the others in the house, etc.

Shiloh had reacted negatively to any humans she saw. She tried attacking Harry and almost succeeded in slashing Masky's throat with her scissors before they were taken away by Slender. She was remarkably comfortable around Slender, the Rake, and Seedeater even though the latter two repeatedly joked about eating her and her probably tasting like a couch cushion.

She became wary of Laughing Jack because he was relatively human-esque in appearance despite the conical nose and claws. Similarly, she was conflicted with Sally because while her appearance was obviously human, the dent and blood seemed to contradict her idea of humanity.

Eyeless Jack was the only humanoid being she felt most comfortable around. He looked human, yes, but his skin color, sharpened teeth, and black eye sockets were enough to help her overcome the conflicting appearance.

"…well, that wraps up the basic questions." Jack said, flipping over the last page on the clipboard. "Now, I was wondering if I could analyze some of your basic functions. Is that okay?"

"Affirmative."

"Alright, I'd like to examine your eye." He said as he turned around to pick up the small, handheld observation light. He paused as he heard a '_rip_' from behind him.

He looked back to her and saw her sitting impassively holding one crystal blue, glass eye in one hand, threads of material still clinging to where she ripped it out of the socket.

"Not like that!" He exclaimed. He panicked and looked between the eye and the socket, deliberating how to fix this. She seemed to catch on to his distress and simply popped it back in her head.

"It's alright, Doctor Jack. See?" She waited a moment for the strings to reattach and began moving the eyeball around. She covered one eye and followed Jack's hand movement to prove she'd regained her functions.

Jack let out a relieved breath. "Doesn't that hurt you?"

"No. It doesn't." She replied neutrally. "I don't really feel 'pain'. I understand it's a negative response to body damage, but I've never actually felt pain to anything damaging my body."

"Well, what's actually damaged your body?" Jack asked.

Shiloh looked up in thought. "Scalpels, drills, saws, shears, needles, knives, bullets, and sharp corners of furniture." She ticked them off as she went on her fingers.

"…that's… a lot…" the doctor replied, slightly perturbed at the list's contents.

She let him continue with the exams. It mostly involved just using the small light on a stick to shine in her eyes and see them operate. He also looked in her ears, mouth, and nose, making notes on the clipboard. She was a lot more comfortable now than during her Creator's experiments and tests. She didn't have any part of her removed, she wouldn't have to sew her skin back together afterwards, she didn't even have to take her clothes off.

Eventually, the doctor let her leave and head back to her room. In the upstairs hall, she narrowed her eyes at a pale-faced teenage _human_ with a slashed smile groggily making his way to the bathroom, but didn't attack. They had been adamant that she not attack humans on sight. Even then, Mr. Slenderman had taken her shears from her.

She finally reached her room and sat down at the desk with her latest project. Mr. Slenderman had given her some crafting materials to keep her occupied. She'd already knitted several scarves and sewn together three quilts from various scraps of fabric.

At the moment, she had a simple painting in front of her. It was a half-finished image of a blue butterfly.

* * *

A month or two rolled by.

Slender stepped out of the mansion to the covered wrap-around porch. It was a brisk Halloween evening. Sally had taken it upon herself to pick up pumpkins from the local farms and carve out several Jack o' lanterns. She'd even gotten candy to put in a bowl (though, given the impossibility of Trick or Treaters visiting, she'd most likely get to keep the treats at the end of the night).

He caught the scent of cigarette smoke and walked around the corner, finding Tim leaning against the railings. "_Hello, Timothy_."

"Hey, boss." He said, taking another drag. He pulled out a small bottle from his jacket and twisted off the safety cap. Two red and purple capsules along with a white potassium iodide pill fell into his palm. He tossed them in the back and swallowed.

Slender looked out at the forests, barely visible from the denser-than-usual fog. Time had changed things from the day Harry arrived, even more-so now that a host of new information had come into play. A decade ago, he'd never consider these Wizards and Witches would have any impact on their job. Now, he felt like he was on the threshold of walking out of the sheltered calm of a building and into the barrage of a hurricane. Less than a year from now, whether he liked it or not, that world would intrude upon his own.

What's more, he had three new tenants/wards to watch over. Shiloh, Nikolaus, and Adrian had all decided to stay with the Manor.

Shiloh had taken strides in becoming less hostile towards people, but still distrusted anyone too "human". She managed polite conversation with Toby at this point, mostly because of the ghastly slash across his mouth. It was a step closer, though she still practically refused to converse with either Harry, Brian, Timothy, or similar visitors.

They found the cloth homunculus was an ingenious design. From tests carried out by Jack and Jeanette [as the plague doctor mandated that an adult _female_ be examined by an adult _female_ outside of a male's presence. It was a bit old fashioned, but Jack agreed through the embarrassed stuttering], the "stuffing" was a remarkable substance acting like millions of neurons controlling the fabric she was made of on a molecular level.

Her eyes were a specially-designed glass creation that was directly incorporated with the nanofiber structure. Slender had arranged for her designs to "disappear" from the archives they'd ended up in should they ever be needed to repair her.

In her time at the mansion, she'd developed a fascination with television. Mostly Oprah, talk shows, reality shows, and their ilk. Slender, personally, didn't really care for those sorts of channels. She considered it an "interesting observation about the human condition", though he seriously doubted the socio-psychological accuracy of "The Real Husbands of New Jersey".

Though, her interest did produce memorable moments. Once, she had discovered a Japanese cartoon, "anime" as BEN referred to it, wherein a character was half-cat (of all things). She then sewed realistic felt cat ears to the top of her head under the misinterpretation that there were actual humans who looked like that. It took almost an entire hour to explain the concept of a fictional being to her and convincing her to eventually take them off. Eyeless Jack was blushing a remarkable shade of purple-gray throughout the event and Jeff and BEN noticed.

Nikolaus was a bit unnerving to the other guests. Most of them didn't share his particular fascination with insects. Even more-so when they discovered a month ago that he could _host_ various species throughout his body. At the moment, he was eagerly designing a plan for a system of colonies within himself to create a sustainable, symbiotic ecosystem of insects.

Whether from the October chill or the concept, Slender shuddered.

Having a beetle latched onto your heart was one thing, but designing a working wasp hive in your left lung or several decomposer species in your digestive tract was just cringe-worthy.

It was not uncommon for him to ask odd questions to Eyeless Jack or be found literally operating on himself down in the basement dissection tables to determine the best location for species.

Other than that, he preferred exploring the forests or playing video games from time to time, still yet to create any real connections between tenants.

Adrian was similar, though he seemed to actively avoid social interactions. He'd taken up Slender's suggestion for meditation to try to remember his past or at the very least quell some of the near-constant anger he felt. Thus, he could usually be found in his room with a candle burning or sharpening the scythe he brought with him. Rarely would he go out and usually only to get another candle or borrow a new book from the library.

Outside of that was basic training. He'd heard about the Balance's cause and agreed to assist, but he needed control over his abilities. The barbed wires fused into his body were largely subconsciously controlled and still had difficulty matching the finesse and effectiveness while aware of the control.

They also discovered his particular affinity with fire. Any control of it was limited down to the candle flaring during meditations, though Slender suspected that Magic could very well be a part of it and produce significant effects if trained.

"Sooooo… the new guys, yeah?"

Timothy's voice cut through his thoughts. The being turned to the Proxy, "_Yes. I was just thinking about them. Shiloh's still… unstable? No, perhaps unsuitable to go on a "job" with us despite her being the only one to willfully and deliberately murder another human being. However, Nikolaus and Adrian both have potential at this point, though, perhaps not for something needing as much finesse as murder._"

The masked proxy smirked, "If you want, I've got just thing. This came in this morning."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small manila envelope before handing it to his boss. "It wasn't a rush job so I was just going to give it over to Rake or Seed Eater tomorrow, y'know?"

The faceless being read over the notes detailing the job. "_Yes… yes, I believe this is perfect._"

With that, he went back inside, leaving the Proxy to his smoke.

* * *

**AN: The ants and sugarcube scene was directly inspired by Antman (great movie, not endorsing. Don't own anything outside of a DVD copy.)**

**If any of you ever take Quantum Mechanics or Advanced Physical Chemistry, you will learn about Schrodinger's Equation and Schrodinger's Cat… and I guarantee you will hate every second of it.**

**I've been planning that Poker game scene almost since I started the fic.**

**I hope you enjoyed!**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

**...**

**Note: this chapter is largely un-betaed to make it in time for the anniversary.**

* * *

**Harry's weapons results are finally in! And just in time for the action scenes!**

**Thank you to everyone for following the story and voting in the polls!**

**…**

**Poll Results:**

*****Wires/jump cables in tandem with BRVR: 12**

**Knives: 9**

**Monstrous Assembly of Death: 9**

**Hallucinogenic Cloud: 7**

**Hatchet: 3**

**…**

**Wires/Jumper Cables takes the lead with 30%! It has been decided!**

**Thank you to The Communist Banana for first suggesting the wires/jumper cables idea!  
**

**...**

**Edit Note: I'm sorry for mis-crediting, my notes got mixed up again (in my defense, I've got, like, 7 years worth of notes here, so things are hard to organize sometimes). Thank you to PenguinBandit523 for correcting that mix-up.**


	19. A Halloween to Dismember

**AN: I'll admit I haven't really played a whole lot of Resident Evil, so I took a few liberties. I did some basic research and I thought it turned out pretty good.**

**On a side note, I recently discovered an audio recording from a youtube channel called "Chiling Tales for Dark Nights" (not endorsing). It's to a reboot of the "Jeff the Killer" story. The written version is on the wiki called "Jeff the Killer 2015" by K Banning Kellum. It's really awesome and I hope to incorporate some of that story into his. It's honestly a much better retelling of the classic creepypasta and goes on an in-depth viewpoint that makes him seem a lot different and feels a lot cooler.**

**Anyway, just thought you'd like to know!**

**I own nothing!**

**-Crow**

**P.S. A huge "Thank You" to everyone who's stuck with this story so far. I'm happy to say there's a little… "surprise" at the end.**

* * *

Harry walked into the basement training room that afternoon, BRVR trotting along beside him.

Jeff was at the hanging punching bag aggressively whacking at the poor sandbag and hopping back and forth on his feet. He'd offered Harry boxing lessons once, but Harry's muscles were a lot leaner, letting him slip around for fluid, flexible movements so his punches weren't too effective. Jeff was a slim build, but since he was older and had more muscle mass, he had a lot more power to his punch.

Laughing Jack had left one of the dummies after practice, so things like thumb tacks were inserted precisely around the "face" forming an agonized expression pattern.

That expression was shortly explained with the several knives, knitting needles, and a stapler still stuck in the "groin" region. If Harry had to guess, he'd say the unfortunate dummy was probably 'male'.

"Harry." The boy looked up and saw Tim wearing his mask on the other side of the gym. He was motioned over and saw Brian in the background like usual, but also Nick and Adrian standing behind the more vocal Proxy. Nick was looking at a throwing knife left around while Adrian stood with his scythe resting on his shoulder.

"Glad you could make it, kid." Tim said. Harry's nose reflexively scrunched as the wave of cigarette smoke rolled off the older man. "Okay, Nick, Ay, this is Harry. He's going to help me with the weapons demonstration."

Nick nodded while Adrian muttered out the nickname under his breath, mouth tilted to the side in annoyance.

Masky went on, "Harry here is a short-range attacker, but he's got a few tricks up his sleeves, too. Harry?" He motioned towards the ward who nodded and pulled out two, large alligator clip jumper cables that snaked to a small backpack, "Now, Harry's cables aren't attached to a battery, nor are they attached to Harry directly. The backpack helps keep a bare spot on the wires up against Harry's spine through his hoodie and clothes."

In response, Harry shrugged off the backpack showing that the backpack had an exposed area to it where the black plastic layer of the wire was flayed off, revealing shiny metal inside. Masky nodded and asked him for a demonstration.

Harry pulled the backpack on and activated the clips. Immediately, blue-white bolts of electricity sparked between the clips themselves and the ground, making his unruly hair stand on end.

"Harry can channel a sort of energy from his body through the clips as electricity. With it, he can stun or kill in close range, even against heavier or larger opponents." Harry charged at a dummy of an adult at least twice his height and plunged the two clips against the chest. The dummy shuddered before Harry pulled away, revealing two black circle imprints with an intricate black lightning pattern between them, smoking ominously.

Masky smirked at the two new wards' faces. Nick was openly gaping while Adrian, despite his stone-like composure, was noticeably wide-eyed as the tiny figure became a blur before frying something in a way that would almost definitely kill a normal human. "As you can see, it's pretty effective. But, we almost never deal with just ordinary, unarmed people. Even moving as fast as he does, a well-aimed bullet would nullify his advantages.

"That's why Harry's got a second." Harry pulled out five slim knives from his pocket and fanned them out between his fingers. "These knives work well in case he's pinned down or in close range and can't use his cords for whatever reason, but they're primarily aerodynamic and he's pretty good at throwing them."

Harry and Masky shared a nod and the younger whipped his arm out. A whistling noise sailed through the air and a blade impacted a dummy's "heart" barely a second later.

"Harry's got a little helper, too." Masky continued. He knelt down and motioned for BRVR who trotted along. Adrian and Nick had already seen the creature over the few months they'd been there, but Nick couldn't suppress a smile as the inner six-year-old in him wouldn't stop enthusing over the real, live Pokemon in front of him.

"This is BRVR, he's a lot like BEN where he's a living, solid computer program, but he's Harry's personal pet. Harry and BRVR can tag-team to amplify the power of the normal attack or even create an arcing long-range attack."

The Pikachu hopped on Harry's backpack, cheeks sparking as he clung to the material. Harry briefly clapped the two clips together, making a shower of sparks and pulled them apart causing arcs of yellow electricity to hop between the two. He took his stance again facing the dummy and combined the two clips together. The metal started glowing as electricity looped through It, building up in a short-circuit.

Then, Harry separated the two, one clip moving backwards and the other jabbing out towards the dummy. A yellow bolt shot from the lower and jumped to the outstretched clip before flying outwards at the dummy.

The bolt seared through the air and struck the dummy, splitting between the head and chest. A moment later, the flash subsided along with the blue spots in their eyes. The dummy was completely blackened and sizzling as dark smoke was drifting off of it.

Clearly, it was a very _dead_ dummy.

Nick whistled low, "That never happened in the anime. Ash would've kicked everyone's butts in the Elite Four instead of sucking at the very end battles of each region."

"If he wasn't burnt charcoal, himself," Adrian added absentmindedly.

Masky motioned them to another, clean dummy and started lining it up with a different dummy in front of it. "Hey, Jeff, get over here!"

The killer took a break from beating dents into the sandbag and walked over. "I want you to show 'em your knife trick."

The sociopathic teen nodded and whipped out a knife from somewhere in his sleeve. He walked to where he was in line with the two dummies, one hidden behind the other. He experimentally fiddled with the blade before throwing it directly at the first dummy.

Nick and Adrian watched it glide directly towards the first dummy before suddenly curving like the dummy had a magnetic field around it. Then, instead of going straight, the knife curved back to its original trajectory and hit the dummy behind hilt-deep in the chest.

"Cool party trick," Nick commented, "Why are you showing us this?"

Brian soundlessly walked to Jeff's position and raised a Glock pistol at the first dummy. A loud bang erupted from the weapon and a small impact was heard on the back dummy.

"Uh, kay?" Nick said awkwardly. Adrian's eyes were narrowed, trying to decipher what just happened as well.

Masky nodded, "Yeah, let's watch instant replay." He pointed to a camera mounted above the area and a small TV installed behind them. Taking out a small remote, he turned on the device and rewound to a point just before the gun firing.

They watched the top view of the bullet in slow-motion, Matrix-style. A cone of ripples in the air trailed behind the small projectile as it curved around the first dummy and impacted the dummy behind it.

"Cool." Nick murmured, watching the video replay. Brian was silent and still, but Harry noted he somehow seemed a bit pleased at the praise.

Jeff smirked, "Yeah, straight out of 'Wanted', but with less Angelina Jolie."

"We're here to test and see if you have any surprises, too." Masky said. "Now, Harry can't even though he's got a lot going for him, so not everyone does, but it still pays to check."

The two new recruits took turns using throwing knives and firing guns for the next half hour. Nick proved a pretty decent shot and explained it on his dad's BB gun lessons when he was younger. Adrian couldn't use either terribly well, but was more comfortable with his scythe anyways. Neither could curve the bullet no matter how much "incentive" Masky gave.

"I swear you're a psychopath." Nick muttered angrily as Tim pulled the gun from his sweat-coated forehead.

Masky shrugged, "You'll find that true for most of us. Plus, you're _dead_, even if I pulled the trigger you'd get right back up."

"Just like 'Wanted'." Jeff commented, laughing.

"I am _sincerely_ glad you're at least enjoying yourself." Nick deadpanned. The older teen's slashed grin widened and he raised his waterbottle in mock toast before taking a sip.

"_Timothy, when I said you could provide 'incentive' for recruits, I didn't mean hold them at gunpoint._"

They turned and found Slender walking towards them, a manila folder tucked under his arm. He turned to Masky, "_I've looked over the file and taken a trip to scout the location. I believe it's a perfect opportunity for Nikolaus and Adrian to get experience in the field._"

"Wait, what?" Nick exclaimed, excited, "You mean, we're being deployed? Like, Call of Duty sent out on a mission and stuff?"

"_I'm unfamiliar with 'Call of Duty' aside from it being one of BEN's games, but yes you are going on a mission. An easy one as well_." Slender replied.

"Awesome!"

"Hey, hang on!"

The crowd turned to an indignant Harry crossing his arms with the clips sparking dangerously in his hands. "I didn't have my first official mission for almost a year! And the first one on my birthday doesn't count because you wouldn't assign me one afterwards."

"_And your mental state was questionable at best, yes,_" Slender agreed. "_We allowed you along because it was an easy mission, you were excited and arguably unstable, I was too stressed and confused at the time to fully oppose it, and it was your birthday._"

Harry grumbled, "So you let the new guys in on this after 2 months."

"_Harry, enough!_" The entity asserted authoritatively. Harry's wires stopped sparking and he clipped them to his belt, resigned. "_If you weren't so impatient, I'd go on to tell you to shadow them on this job and ensure it goes well. You and Jeffery._"

Harry's features lit up drastically and Jeff stretched his back, popping some joints, "Eh, sure. I needed some action this week. Where're we going?"

Slender looked down at the dossier, "_It looks like a simple reanimation virus outbreak-_"

"Wait, reanimation?!" Nick interrupted, hopping on his feet, "Like, zombies?! Real, snarling, flesh-craving, decomposing zombies?" His grin widened with each adjective.

"_Well, depending upon the outbreak strain, yes. Sometimes they are similar to Hollywood's Night of the Living Dead, but other times they are simply men and women with a mindless craving for human flesh and violence… like rabies._" Slender reasoned.

"Sweet!" He cheered.

"Makes sense," Adrian muttered. Nick looked at him, eyebrow raised. "If a zombie virus exists, then, logically, it would have different strains like any viral mutation. Like how the flu mutates every season."

"_Correct, Adrian. Now, this strain is… somewhat peculiar, but nothing I'm sure we can't handle. It's a fairly isolated population with a low infection rate_."

Jeff tossed the knife in the air before it vanished in his sleeve, "So, what small-town's gunna have us busting down the door?"

The entity re-read the document.

"_Just some small city in Missouri._"

* * *

A small copse of trees rustled in a non-existent wind and four figures suddenly appeared without a sound in a flurry of dead leaves.

The smallest one murmured to something in his backpack before setting a dark mask over his face. The eyes glowed battery-acid green as he removed two oversized wire clips from his belt.

The two taller figures stood at attention, taking in the details around them. One fingering his knife up his sleeve, ready to whip it out at a moment's notice, the other leaning his scythe against his shoulder, swiveling the blade back and forth behind his head.

"So- mph!"

The middle-sized figure spoke, but was silenced by the figure with the knife, clamping his hand over the other's mouth. The older figure raised a finger to his lips before slowly turning in a circle. He motioned to the smaller figure who murmured to his backpack again. A small, furry creature popped its head out of the backpack and scampered up one of the taller trees.

The figure jumped between the tree branches agilely before jumping back down. "Pika pi!"

"BRVR says it's okay." Harry announced. The four relaxed.

Nick shoved Jeff's hand off his face angrily, "Okay, first off, gross; second off, rude; and third off, why'd you clamp my mouth shut in the first place?"

Jeff growled, "I know this is your first mission, kid, but you've gotta pull your head out of your ass if you don't want to get mauled by a horde. When we arrive at a situation like an outbreak, we stay quiet. We scope out the place first in case anyone or any_thing_ is too close for comfort that might attract a couple of its friends."

Nick looked down apologetically. Adrian kept his hood up and was scanning the rest of the area. "Something's over there." He pointed towards a building they could barely make out in the night.

They made their way over to the structure. It turned out to be an old gas station. There weren't any lights on in the place and the small convenience store was completely devoid of people.

Harry walked in the store, silently checking the back rooms, bathrooms, and behind the counter. Jeff followed behind, knife ready. Harry hopped out of the back room, "Looks clear!"

"Sweet. Maybe we can loot some snacks on the way home." Jeff commented, eyeing some of the soda bottles in the dead fridges. They left the empty station, finding a map to town on the wall behind the counter and walking down the road.

They eventually reached the city. The buildings looked like something out of Small-Town USA from the 50s. A few industrial plants were in the distance, their columns and smokestacks rising above the skyline, but overall the town was pretty reclusive and tiny. The power was still on, though, so a couple lights were on.

As they got further towards the center, they started seeing more damage. What looked like a pub or grill was burnt with a few embers quietly sizzling and wafting the smell of burnt burgers and oil in the air. They kept walking down Main Street, passing a pawn shop, a few boutiques with mannequins posing in the window, and a barber complete with a red, white, and blue pole.

Jeff sniffed at the air and held up his hand for silence, "You guys here that?"

They stopped moving, listening intently before Nick spoke, "Hear what?"

"Exactly," Harry answered, "No screams, no panic, no fire alarms or police sirens, nothing. The main question is; where is everyone?"

"And where are the zombies," Adrian added, looking around the desolate town.

Nick took out the Glock he was given and turned off the safety. "Sooo… good or bad?"

"Depends," Harry admitted.

"But in this case, Slendy said it was a simple job. In and out." Jeff muttered, "There should be people. There should be at least _someone_ here. They can't have all left, zombies don't move that fast, if at all."

"The dossier did say it was a new strain," Adrian reminded him.

They kept going, walking down the empty streets-

"Psst!"

They turned and found Nick frantically gesturing with his gun. They looked down the alleyway and found a woman kneeling over another person laying on the ground. Even from there, they could hear the faint munch and crunch of meat.

"That's more like it," Jeff said, taking out his knife.

The group slowly walked towards the woman. From the faint light of a back porch, they could see the woman had a floral dress and a large mess of curly, dirty-blonde hair. Her hands were bloody and she was definitely reaching into the guy's chest cavity-

*clang-ng-ng-ng!*

Jeff turned mutinous eyes towards Nick who was cringing away from a trash can lid rattling and ringing on the ground. The undead teen mouthed 'sorry' before his eyes flickered to the creature.

The woman noticed. She immediately abandoned the dead meal, having found new meat instead. Its eyes were white with a filmy layer and the skin was cracked and gray except for the mouth which was coated in blood and various bits of gore.

Her jaw opened and she let out a loud wail before a loud *bang!* was heard, followed shortly by her head lurching back with a new hole. They turned to Nick, still holding the Glock. "What? 'Aim for the head'. Zombie 101."

Jeff smirked and nodded before picking up a heavy rod of metal from the dumpster nearby. He approached the woman and nudged her still form. She didn't move.

He walked over to the man's corpse. The figure lunged upward despite having barely any torso left and Jeff quickly slammed the bar over its head, killing it.

"Okay, so these are the undead guys, Harry." He commented cheerfully.

Harry's clips sparked with his excitement, "Sweet! No pulling punches!" Their celebration was cut off by a loud growl from down the alleyway. "Sounds like company."

Five more zombies were at the end of the alley, backlight by the theater's marquis. Two were in torn business suits. One was a woman in jeans and a close-fitting tee. Another was something too decayed to make out much besides rotted rags of clothes with no hair on his gray and cracked head.

The final guy was interesting though. He stood at least 7 feet with enough bulky muscle to make Schwarzenegger envious. Though, another feature to him was the bloodied butcher's smock and a ridiculously large cleaver in his meaty right hand.

"I gotta find out who makes those knives," Jeff commented, eyeing the weapon excitedly.

"Probably custom," Harry commented. "So, any takers? Dibs on the bald guy."

Adrian stepped forward, "I'll take the businessmen."

Nick interrupted, "Wait! Hang on! I can't kill a chick! And like Hell I'm taking on big, tall, and bloody, there."

Adrian sighed, "Fine, I'll take the woman, you take _a_ businessman and I'll get the other one. Deal?" Nick nodded.

"I'll take Mr. Butcher here," Jeff said happily, "I want that knife."

Harry was the first to charge forward, taking the decayed zombie aback. Before it could retaliate, the younger boy's wire clips were at the sides of its head and deep frying whatever gray matter was between. He stopped when smoke started pouring out of its ears and it stopped twitching.

Nick just aimed at the businessman, taking a few shots to finally peg the forehead. It fell instantly without the cerebral matter holding it up.

Adrian charged between the remaining businessman and woman and, with one swipe of the sharpened scythe, lobbed off the cranial caps, exposing half of a brain in each portion. They collapsed, too.

Jeff took a direct approach and flew at the bigger guy, raising the bar above his head. It clanged against the zombie's thicker-than-normal skull, but managed to disorient it. Jeff took another few whacks at the creature before it tumbled backwards out of the alleyway and into the street.

Jeff took the incentive and rushed to one of the partially-destroyed power poles. A pretty good kick caused the weakened base to give way and electrified cables fell down on the larger foe, sparking and flailing. The pole itself landed right on the figure's downed form, but the cables caused it to twitch spastically as remaining electricity coursed through its body, killing it.

"Had to steal your trick, Harry," He said, brandishing his own knife, "A knife's no good against bone."

He kicked the oversized blade out of the giant's grasp and held it up, admiring it in the firelight of a burning building. He set it by a bench for later.

Two more groans directed their attention to the end of the street. A blonde zombie in a lab coat and a zombie wearing full SWAT protection armor shambled along the street towards them.

Nick's bullet made quick work of the unprotected scientist, but couldn't get through the soldier's armor. Harry nodded to BRVR, still in his pack, and sparked the two clips together before creating a large arc of lightning straight at the figure. A loud crash sounded and the tendrils flailed around, shorting out the power grid and making several buildings go dark along with several bursting lightbulbs. The figure collapsed, smoking.

Nick fist-pumped the air, "Woo! That wasn't so hard."

"Well, the report did say it was just a small zombie outbreak." Harry reminded him, clipping the wires to his belt.

"Hold on," Adrian said quietly, walking towards the downed figures. He quickly found the zombie's ID on both figures and pulled them off of the lanyard. "This doesn't seem right."

"Waddaya mean?" Harry asked.

"Gotta pay attention, Harry," Jeff said, "He's right. What's a lab coat and soldier doing out here? No pharmacy really requires a lab coat and the military wouldn't have responded this fast."

"Plus, they're together," Adrian added, handing them the badges. Both had a small icon stamped on them looking like some red and white pinwheel. Underneath the simple logo was "Umbrella Corps" in normal font. Below that was the individuals' names and information.

"Umbrella…" Jeff trailed off. "We need to report this to Slendy-"

"Hang on," Harry interrupted, "Why don't we follow the trail? There's got to be something out that way about this place. These guys came down this road, I bet we'll find more about this there."

Jeff looked down the dirt road out of town to the mountain regions and nodded, "Sure. More to add to the report, I guess."

They packed up, Nick reloading a new clip into his gun, and moved down the road the last two zombies shambled down.

They walked through the wooded area, going further and further from the main city until they just got to a dirt road with heavy tire tread marks leading down it. Finally, they found a large, iron fence with razor wire circling the top. A small sign held the company logo with a 'Private Property' warning underneath.

"Huh, somebody does not want visitors." Jeff commented. He looked at the gate and found it was already broken open. He pushed the rusty gate open more and they filed through it.

"Notice something?" Harry asked the two.

Adrian nodded, "No guards."

"Exactly."

A huge facility loomed in front of them, just behind the fence. Anything this big had to be a pretty big deal. No one would leave it abandoned and, even then, there'd be sentry guards around to keep the place secure.

They soon got to the entrance of the building. It seemed like a standard industrial facility, save for a large set of reinforced steel doors wrapped in chains and boarded haphazardly.

"Three guesses what's in there," Nick commented, readying the weapon. Harry rolled his eyes and readied the alligator clips.

*Boom!*

The doors quivered with an impact. The chains rattled ominously and a few boards creaked.

*Boom!*

The jarred doors opened a bit further, exposing a glimpse of the inside.

"Jeff, Slendy said this was an _easy_ one, right?" The youngest asked, eyeing the door.

*Boom!*

The makeshift barricade began cracking under the stress.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a long-distance communicator. "Slendy? Anybody? This is Harry… uh… About the zombie case, I think we need a bigger gun."

The radio crackled with Tim's voice agreeing before going dead.

Harry steeled himself, readying his clips, he could feel BRVR charging itself in his pack.

"_Listen, I know we're facing imminent death… probably… but what does a bigger gun have to do with anything?_"

"_They're American; it's their solution to everything!_"

Harry mentally told them to shut up or be productive and refocused on the doors creaking and moaning under the pressure.

*Boom! Crack!*

The door split open and the horde rushed out.

* * *

Tim ran downstairs to find Slendy at the table surrounded with papers. The entity looked up, "_Ah, Timothy, wha-?_"

"We have trouble."

* * *

Twenty minutes later and the group had barely made a dent.

Where one fell, twelve more shambling _things_ in lab coats, hospital gowns, or business suits took its place. Each wave brought new surprises, too.

The first wave was standard, moaning zombies. Then, the next few waves became more and more decayed.

"How does dying give you tentacle-mouths?!" Nick shouted over the din, shooting another decayed demon-dog thing that barreled out of the entryway.

"To be honest, mutated zombies are new." Harry admitted, frying another on the way.

The four were steadily pushed back by the sheer number of creatures crawling through the facility. Jeff was slashing left and right, trying to fend off the horde.

"Fall back! We need a better vantage point!" He shouted.

The group ran from the massive wave of the undead, running down the dirt road back to town. They stopped when a smaller, but still dense wave of the other town citizens started shuffling towards them.

"Oh, come on! Where did these assholes come from!" Jeff shouted in disbelief.

"No time! The fire escape!" Adrian shouted over the moans. They climbed the fire ladders of the nearby buildings to the rooftop. The creatures stalked towards it, but Harry pulled the ladder up as the first ones started reaching it.

The crowd of zombies just started congregating around the building, clawing at the walls. A few had even started crushing the ones underfoot at the base of the wall and were slowly making a mound of zombified bodies and ascending up the building's wall.

"Well, I can honestly say this is one of the ways I figured I'd die… er, die again." Nick said solemnly. "Zombie apocalypse, meteor impact, or massive heart failure from poor diet."

"You weren't an optimist, were you?" Adrian commented dryly.

"Harry, you've got the longest range. Try taking some out." Jeff called over at the edge. Harry nodded, sparking the two wire clips together.

Adrian grinned with an idea. "Hey, will this help?" He kicked at one of the pipes along the rooftop and it began sprinkling water at the crowd. Harry nodded eagerly and began charging the clips with BRVR. The metal started to glow with electricity buildup before he shot out a loud thunderbolt. The initial bolt branched into thousands of tendrils, but the main one followed the electrical current in the water and left a large area of smoking corpses which were rapidly walked over by the oncoming horde.

Harry ran to the other side and repeated the action, less effective without the water. Three more bolts shot out before he leaned over, panting. BRVR popped its head out and moaned 'Pika' tiredly. "W- *huff* We can't… *wheeze*…"

"Harry's down for the count," Jeff announced. He took out his own Glock (something he didn't like using often) and began shooting uselessly at the massive horde, taking down enemies one at a time.

"I'm out of bullets," Nick said, returning the gun to his pocket. "And my wasps won't do squat against zombies."

"Try it!" Nick beat against his chest like he was trying to relieve heartburn before opening his mouth wide and releasing a buzzing swarm of wasps. He could control them enough to move the social swarm in a general direction. The cloud of insects moved amongst the thousands of zombies, stinging at random, but effectively doing nothing. After a few minutes, they wound up infected with the virus and, being incompatible with it, dropped dead and didn't get back up.

Nick bemoaned their fate (and the loss of Totally Awesome Zombie Wasps) later when he found out.

Adrian took the barbed wire in both hands and began trying to whip downwards at the pyramids climbing the wall, but the effort couldn't hold up to the massive swarm slowly climbing to replace the fallen.

It was not looking good. The building was only two stories and the zombies had already piled on top of each other to the point where they could reach the lowest fire escape rung. Adrian had to use his heated wires to practically weld off the iron supports holding the fire escape.

It fell into the crowd, crushing the ones unfortunate enough to be underneath.

"Shit. This is _not_ how I wanted today to go." Jeff cursed. He was already on the radio trying to get a hold of Masky. "Masky, you son of a bitch, where the f*ck are you!"

"_*crrtch* Language Jeff. Slendy spent two years on that. *crrtch*_"

"I'll fix my f*cking "language" when I'm not knee deep in f*cking zombies ready to tear me a new-"

"_*crrtch* Jeff don't finish that sentence. *crrtch*_"

"And why the Hell not?"

"'Cuz Slendy's here." Masky's voice came clearly from behind them.

The group turned and saw Slendy standing, tentacles out and ready with several Proxies holding various ranged weaponry.

Hoodie ran to the edge and lifted his mask briefly to pull the pin on a grenade with his mouth before sending it straight into the crowd. The blast took out a good number. He and another girl ran over with what looked like a large, portable machine gun. She excitedly cackled as she fired it at the horde while Hoodie fed a long chain of bullets into the machine.

Slendy teleported right into the fray. He spun with his tentacles to clear a circle around him before impaling the creatures through the head methodically. He repeated the procedure throughout the mass, teleporting to dense locations and taking them out, thinning the horde.

The game-changer came when Toby showed up. He pulled down his goggles and had his fireproof mask, but the mask's grinning appearance matched his own. He was hauling a huge tank on his back and had a two, long, black sticks in both hands with tubes connecting them to the tank.

The end of the sticks had a tiny flame over an opening.

Slendy quickly cleared a space before teleporting the Proxy into the middle of it. A second later, twin columns of fire erupted from the clearing, burning through the army of the undead like matchsticks. He clearly was enjoying himself as he cackled, walking through and circling around to burn away the masses.

"_Adrian._"

The scythe-weilder turned to the faceless entity who wordlessly (or possibly telepathically) pointed to the flames. Adrian nodded and looked down at the mass of burning corpses in Toby's wake. He took a breath and began raising his arms before lowering them and raising them again. Harry noticed the flames' dance mimicked his movements.

Up. _Flare_.

Down. _Fade._

Up. _Flare_.

Down. _Fade._

Suddenly, he jolted his arms to the left and the fire responded, moving like some kind of snake towards the unburned undead. He repeated the action in different directions, taking out more and more of them.

Beads of sweat started to form on his head and his eyes started to glow coal red. He grunted with the effort, his arms started shaking and the fire started spreading more wildly out of control.

"_Stop! Adrian, Stop!_" Slendy's mental voice cried out.

Harry saw the massive tendrils of fire flaring and fanning through the crowd, but also towards Toby who had abandoned using the flamethrowers and was running through the crowd against the wall of fire coming towards him.

Slender vanished in a cloud of black smoke before reappearing in front of Toby, taking his hand and then teleporting back, unaware of the visitor.

Toby and Slender reappeared on the rooftop before Toby suddenly cried out in surprise as a zombie had latched itself onto his shoulder. He couldn't feel it, so who knew how long it had been there. A quick bullet from Hoodie's gun ended it and one of the other Proxies started moving to clean the wound.

Harry noticed a zombie starting to crawl an arm over the precipice just behind Nick as he was fumbling with one of the guns. "Look out!"

The zombie latched onto Nick's leg and he stumbled backwards, staring at the gaping maw. Suddenly, a whistle flew through the air and a tiny, throwing knife impacted the zombie's forehead. It fell backwards with a moan as another Proxy took up Toby's flamethrower and roasted the pyramid formed below.

Nick sent a grateful nod to Harry and assembled his weapon faster.

Slendy telepathically shouted over the moans, "_This is no use! We have to use the Omega Protocol! Fall back to me!_"

Nick and Adrian didn't know what "Omega Protocol" meant, but from how the Proxies abandoned everything and ran up to the entity, they followed suit. Each grabbed a tentacle and Slendy confirmed they were all there.

They teleported to a clearing far from the location, Slendy did a quick head count and confirmed everyone was there before suddenly disappearing.

* * *

Slenderman reappeared in a street in the center of the town.

He took out a small, stone with a symbol engraved in it. He sent a pulse of energy into the stone itself and the glyph glowed red.

The entity set it down and quickly vanished in black smoke.

The glyph pulsed and flashed red.

Flash.

Flash.

Flash.

FlashFlashFlashFlashFlashFla-

It erupted in light.

* * *

The entity reappeared before the group of Proxies and wards and looked back in the direction of the town.

A bright light in the center of the city exploded in the night sky followed by a deep 'whump' sound making a shockwave across everything to the mountain range. The light faded and became a dark, black shadowy mass crackling with an ominous red lightning.

Then, the town _imploded_.

Houses, trees, ground, streets, everything slowly crumbled and _fell_ into the center of the black cloud. Buildings were ripped from foundations and floated towards the center, making a slow swirl before breaking apart and debris flew closer to the center. Telephone poles and power lines sparked as they were ripped from each other. The burning buildings and out-of-control fires were pulled like a physical entity into the center in an incredible swirl of orange flame.

The area of effect reached the "Umbrella Corporation" building and the entire building was pulled from the inside-out with chairs, papers, and debris flying out the entryway until eventually the entire facility was ripped from the ground (and all of its underground levels too) and pulled into the phenomenon. Thousands more zombies were seen before being pulled in and vanishing in the cloud.

Eventually, the phenomenon stopped spreading and retreated back into itself, bringing in debris and dirt and crumbling into the focal point. The center glowed purple and then flashed a bright blue-white before stopping completely.

The group looked on in awe at the massive crater that once held an entire city.

"S-so that's Project Omega?" Adrian asked with an uncharacteristic stutter.

"_Omega Protocol_," Slender corrected, "_As the name suggests, it is the _final_ option in the event of a world-ending catastrophe. It's actually the reason Atlantis _won't_ be found. The stones are rare, so it is only used in extraordinary cases, but given the scale of this unusual infestation, we couldn't afford to have it spread. Still, the Omega Protocol hasn't had to be used in almost two centuries._"

"I can see why," Nick said awestruck.

"Crap!" Jeff exclaimed. The group turned to him, concerned. "I left the freaking butcher's knife back in the city! Oh, man! I really wanted that…"

The group rolled their eyes (or with Slender, just facepalmed), before the entity spoke, "_I need to get Toby back to Eyeless Jack and I need to take the others. Afterwards, I need to file this incident and the Omega Protocol usage with the Council, also possibly get this "Umbrella Corporation" looked into properly. Jeff, could you escort Harry, Nikolaus, and Adrian back to the Port?_"

Jeff nodded. "Sure thing, Slendy." He gestured for the others to follow as the entity and Proxies vanished in smoke.

Harry clipped his wires to his belt again and pulled off the mask. "Soooo, any reason in particular why you'd willingly take us back?"

"Yeah," Jeff snickered, "More arms to help loot that gas station."

* * *

The group sat at the cement car stops to one of the parking spots at the gas station. They'd made a pretty decent haul of snacks and sodas and put Harry's backpack to good use. BRVR was content walking outside of it and chewing a piece of beef jerky.

Harry took a bite out of the Halloween-themed candy. "Oh, hey, I just realized; it's Halloween."

"Yeah, Trick or Treat," Jeff said, motioning to the sack of stolen goods. He took another swig of Coke, somehow still not letting it leak through his cheek slashes.

Nick spoke, "Hey, Harry, thanks for the save."

"No trouble, really." The boy replied, "Though that was clever, Adrian, using the water pipe like that."

"Thank you. I just noticed the "water out" painted on and broke it."

"Huh, well don't expect me to be all buddy-buddy," Jeff announced, taking a potato chip.

"Aw, come on," Nick whined, "What better way to cement friendship than facing eminent death together."

He reached out and pulled Harry and Adrian into an awkward group hug. Harry matched the undead teen's grin with BRVR on his shoulder while Adrian looked nonplussed, but somewhat amused by the random action.

"Well, we'd better get going," Jeff announced, turning to get up, "Also," He spun on the spot, "hug me and I'll rip your arms off." That stopped Nick from any further attempts.

* * *

Dave drove recklessly on the only road out of the town/facility. He was a pizza delivery guy, er, _former_ pizza delivery guy. He knew how to drive a car anywhere within 30 minutes or less. And boy was he grateful for that.

After he quit Freddy Fazbear's, he contacted a brainy cousin of his who had some connections to Umbrella Corps. He was always saying they needed lab assistants there, so after stalling at dead-end part time jobs for a while, Dave sent out an application and slowly worked around the various facilities over the months. This last one was pretty well hidden and definitely had a higher security requirement for most cases. Overall, he'd just work in a sealed, guarded room cleaning beakers and prepping petri dishes.

Then, of course, the zombie outbreak happened. He didn't know how it happened and, frankly, he didn't _care_. He bolted it out of the labs as scientists and military guards rushed through the facility hallways to contain the sudden outbreak.

At the exit point, a few soldiers were fighting the undead creatures and a few managed to get out of the perimeter fences. He could hear the screams and the alarm sirens in the city. He knew they were all Umbrella Corporation employees, but it still worried him.

"You there!" A military superior shouted at him. He nervously looked at the man and then looked around, praying for someone behind or around him. He was suddenly grabbed by the shirt and pulled into the man's face, "Pick up a gun and start shooting, Poindexter. Now's not the time for biology class!"

He shoved a semi-automatic rifle in Dave's hand and went back to shooting the horde. Dave backed away, gun still in his arms.

Seconds later, the military officer was overrun by zombies and being eaten.

Dave ran to one of the military jeeps and thanked every deity in existence that the keys were still in the ignition.

"Grawgh!"

He did _not_ 'shriek'. He let out a manly yelp of surprise. But either way, he did accidentally pull the trigger and shoot the zombie square in the face, making it fall back in the passenger seat, bits of brain and blood spattering the car interior behind it. He squirmed in disgust and kicked the zombie out the door before putting the car in drive and flooring it out of there.

As he was driving away, he looked back in the mirror and saw the entire facility, no the entire _town_ collapse into some kind of black hole. The safety manuals didn't go over something like that.

He kept flooring down the stretch of road and away from that nuthouse Umbrella Corporation.

He _really_ needed a new job.

In the back of the jeep, a jar containing what looked like a gross, white tapeworm suspended in yellowish ooze rattled against several others.

* * *

The four arrived at the mansion's Port and walked up to the porch. Jeff made a harsh sound and motioned to them from by a bush. He put the bag of snacks hidden in the bush and they followed suit. He explained the plan to come back down later to hide them in one of the rooms upstairs without Slendy noticing.

The goods hidden, they walked in the front door. "Hey, Slendy, we're ho~ome!" Harry called out.

They walked to the living room and found the Sally lying on the floor on her stomach, writing in a child's puzzle book. Eyeless Jack was there, too, reading a printout of some new medical journal with a steaming plate of braised lung next to him. But the main source of attention was Toby.

He was walking around the room with his arms and fingers ramrod straight and walked stiffly with his knees locked. He moaned on occasion.

"Uh, Toby? What's up?" Jeff asked.

"I… bitten… craving… brroooowwwnnnniiiieeeesss!" Toby moaned out disjointedly.

Sally giggled and looked up from her booklet. "Aren't you supposed to crave brains?"

"Ew! Gross." Toby interjected, breaking character, "I'd take a brownie any day. Brains are just gross and squishy."

"Don't knock it 'till you try it." EJ commented, taking another bite of lung.

Nick eyed Toby warily as he continued to stumble through the furniture-filled room, "Shouldn't we… I dunno… quarantine him or something? Isn't that what they do in movies?"

"_Good sense of caution, but not needed._" Slendy walked in silently through the doorway, "_Toby has been with us long enough that the virus is dead the minute it reaches his bloodstream. We ran tests to be sure and the virus is dead. Toby isn't a zombie and won't be any time soon._

_"It's actually why we are typically tasked with viral contaminants and biohazards. They don't tend to affect us from Sigma exposure._"

"Grrr! Fire! Bad! Me am zombie!" Toby grunted out, still stiffly walking around.

"That's too Frankenstein, Toby." Sally commented, still giggling. In response, Toby shifted to hunching himself over one leg bent, the other with a noticeably fake limp. He bent his arms and put them out "Thriller"-style.

"That's better." Sally commented happily as he continued moaning and groaning about brownies.

* * *

Months later, Slenderman was at breakfast. Harry and Nick were joking about some video game while Adrian just smirked on occasion and rolled his eyes at the cruder jokes. The two new wards bonded quickly as friends, despite the apparent age differences, over jobs, events, games, and other childish material and it seemed to do them good in integrating with the rest of the tenants.

He calmly sipped his tea with steady hands, reminiscing that Harry's 11th Birthday was approaching rapidly.

He didn't show it (if he had any facial features to begin with), but he couldn't shake the ominous feeling of impending doom as July 31st got closer with each day.

The hurricane was outside.

The door would open soon.

* * *

11:58 at night.

And nobody was asleep.

A large group of people were gathered around a table, waiting through the tense silence. They kept looking up at the clock on the wall anxiously.

"This is highly irregular-"

"But necessary, we must see with our own eyes. Trust me."

That left them silent in the darkness, illuminated by a few simple candles scattered around the room.

11:59.

In precisely 60 seconds the fate of the world could be re-written in an instant.

Hands were being rung, nails chewed, sweat formed, and a few fearful tears shed.

…

…

…

12:00.

The ruby quill levitated and moved to a large stack of parchment. It dipped itself in an everlasting green ink pot and set itself onto the first page to write:

"_Ms. H. Abbot, The North Bedroom on the Second Story, 26, Dove Street, Worchester, England._"

It finished the address and another paper from a different stack flew into the first as it folded itself into an envelope. A small pot floating over a candle levitated over the pages and poured bright violet wax over the fold and a stamp rose and fell hard into the cooling wax, producing a bold imprinted crest.

The quill continued as anxious faces peered at its meticulous progress.

"_Ms. S. Bones,_ …"

And so it continued for the next few minutes as it narrowed down.

"_Ms. P. Parkinson"_

_"Ms. P. Patil"_

_"Ms. P. Patil"_

_"Ms. S. Perks"_

_…_

_"Mr. H. Potter"_

Albus Dumbledore, surrounded by Hogwarts' professors watched the quill continue. Relief filled everyone's faces, save for the old man's.

His eyes twinkled in the candlelight, tracking the quill's movements.

Soon.

His Weapon would come to him.

* * *

**AN: Behold.**

**At long last;**

**Our patience is rewarded.**

**…**

**Adrian's power was inspired by Fire Bending. It's not perfect, so it's not OP.**

**The Omega Protocol is meant to be a rarely used thing, so it probably won't come up again. It's pretty OP. I wanted something similar to the nuke in the Resident Evil franchise, but I got this "black hole" thing in my head and I had to write it down.**

**Jeff has a bit of a potty mouth in stressful situations... also in general, but Slendy spent 2 years conditioning it out of him... which essentially means he does it whenever Masky, Hoodie, or Slendy are out of earshot. (And he kept it in check when he was with younger Harry)**

**I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Sincerely,**

**The Smiling Crow**


	20. The Letter (Part 1)

**And now!**

**It's time for the moment you've been waiting for:**

**Duh!**

**Dididuh duh duh duh duuuh!**

**Dididuh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuh!**

**Dididuh duh duh duh duuuh!**

**Duh didiluh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuh!**

**Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuuh!**

**Tsch!**

**Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuuh diduuuh diduuuh!**

**Diduh di di!**

**Duh di di!**

**Didili duh duh duh duh!**

**Didili duh duh duh duuuuh!**

**Diduh didili duh didili duuuuuh!**

**Diduh didili-!**

***panting*!**

**Diduh didili duh didili duh didili duh didili!**

**Duh didi duh di di duh di di!**

**DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH!**

**Preparing the Krabby Patty! Er-**

**Presenting the Hogwarts Arc!**

* * *

An owl flew through the night, silent as its wings glided through the air. It had taken hours to finally reach its destination, but it made it, none-the-less. It was tired, hungry, and admittedly cranky, but the pull of the letter it held was too strong.

It flew across huge cities and small towns as the letter compelled it further and further into the wooded countryside.

It felt a sudden sense of dread as it neared the denser parts of the forest, but it couldn't shake the compulsion of the letter and its necessity to make it to the student. It continued to fly onward in the darkness of early morning when-

It panicked!

It couldn't tell which way was updownleftright every instinct told it to get away. As far away as it could. To turn back, the only direction it seemed to know, the exact opposite direction of the letter's recipient.

It had to keep going, following a thin thread from the letter, an instinctive push in one singular direction. It felt a brush of powerful wards being separated like a parted waterfall only by the letter's magic. Otherwise, it would certainly have been a roasted bird on the ground.

The confusion stopped.

If owls could sigh or laugh it would have done either in relief.

A mansion (that was _definitely_ not visible from the sky earlier) was below in a clearing in the woods.

The recipient was there.

All it had to do wa-

*woosh*

An almost silent wing beat was heard above it, only perceived by heightened magical senses and years of evading predators.

It looked up-

"Hoot!"

A large black shape in the sky descended upon it.

* * *

Officer Dan O' Riley sat in the police cruiser with his partner, Mack. Yes, they were stereotyped names for police officers. Yes, admittedly they were enjoying a box of donuts with extra-strength coffee. Yes, it was cliché to the point of redundancy, but at 3 AM, they _really_ didn't care.

The officers were stuck in the unfortunate job of watching a particularly annoying stretch of road along the famous route 66.

Most officers were reluctant to take this shift not just because it was a crappy time of night and was really awful to sleep off the week after, but because everyone in the precinct was superstitious of this _one_ stupid stretch of road. It was a small portion of route 66 that rarely saw any action. Cars usually pulled off to the pit stops nearby or to the city and any continuing traffic came in from the off-ramp from the pit stops a few miles out. Really, only a few cars were _ever_ seen on this road at this time of night. And it wasn't like any sane person would be awake and driving at 3 AM on a really poorly lit section of highway.

The main reason it was so superstitious was because almost a decade or two ago, some vandals painted another 6 on the highway sign. Ever since, the county or government haven't funded the section of road's repair. They claim the machines "stop working" and so the entire highway was riddled with cracks along the side, making it even less enjoyable for drivers.

So, he was honestly surprised as he noticed two headlights coming up in the distance. "Hey, Mack," He flapped his hand at the guy's shoulder and brought him out of the game he was playing on his phone. "Someone's coming."

He actually stopped his game to watch the rare car that made it this way.

Rather quickly.

Dan quickly pulled out a radar gun from the slot next to him and put it against the dash, preparing for the car's readout.

*Zooom!*

*beep beep* 95 mph.

He looked at his partner in surprise before pulling the car into drive and flashing the lights and siren, "Finally some action."

They roared out of the hiding spot behind a billboard and started gunning it towards the car. Mack pulled out the radio and called in. "Hey Darlene, you'll never guess."

"_*crrtch What? *beep*_"

"We've actually _got someone_. They're doing 95 on Route 66. We are in pursuit."

"_*crrtch Roger that. Can you describe the vehicle? *beep*_"

He peered through the dark, "Not really, it's pretty dark. Hang on, we're pulling up to them now."

They leveled with the speeding car-

-And felt a chill to their soul.

The car was a classic 1958 cherry red Plymouth Fury. The convertible hood was down, showing all three occupants inside, but it took a while to notice that. The entirety of the car's hood and underside was on fire and it streamed behind it as it rocketed along the road. Music blared through speakers in the car above the roar of the wind.

The three figures inside didn't help any.

The tallest was in the driver's wheel. It looked like a guy, but it kept its hood up. The arms were wrapped in coils of barbed wire snaking across the hands and binding it to the wheel. The wires themselves were _glowing_ red with heat, but the figure didn't mind. In fact, it was smiling.

No, wait.

The figure's face had a dark "fade" around its mouth forming a large, twisted smile and its eyes were sunken in and glowing, red coals in the far back grinned laughingly back at him and his horror.

The middle figure was sprawled in the back seat. It was a kid maybe in his teens, his arms gripping the leather cushions for dear life as he wailed in terror, unheard through the sheering wind and music. His face was partially decomposed with small bits of exposed muscle from torn skin.

The smallest figure was in the passenger's seat. It was relatively small, but wore a dark hoodie with a black, breathing mask covering its entire face, save for two green, glass eyes literally glowing in the darkness despite the glow of the fire. It was jamming on an old guitar in time with something blaring on the radio over the din.

"_I'm on the High-Way to Hell!_

_High-Way to Hell!_

_On the High-Way to Hell!_"

Behind them, a large cloud of locusts followed behind at an almost impossible speed.

Dan didn't know when he'd let go of the gas pedal, but the Car from Hell kept going and going as the cruiser slowed to a stop.

They sat there in the middle of the highway, neither moving nor speaking, staring as the car vanished in the distance. A small pinprick of light in the distance.

Two demons, one evil car, one poor damned soul in the back seat, and a plague of locusts. All jamming to AC/DC.

"_*crrtch* Hey, guys, you okay? Report in. I repeat, report in, _**now**_ *beep*._"

Mack reached for the radio with shaky hands. He lifted it to his mouth and licked his lips before answering, "Dar-Darlene?"

"_*crrtch* Christ, where were you guys. You've got people out here thinking you crashed or something. What's going on with the speeder, are you still in pursuit? *beep*_"

"Negative."

"_*crrtch* Why? *beep*_"

"… I… ah… I… I'm gunna have to call you back… okay?"

"_*crrtch* Call me back? Jeez, Mack, this isn't your first speeder. What the Hell's going on. *beep*_"

"Hehe. Darlene, you have _no_ idea how appropriate that was." Mack joked quietly, "Just… report it as… I dunno… a hallucination from sleep deprivation and too much coffee."

"_*crrtch* What do you mean? What did you see? *beep*_"

Mack shook his head and tried finding his voice a few times before answering. "I- I… I think I just need some time off, okay?"

"_*crrtch* Roger. We'll send someone over to take your shift. *beep*_"

Mack set the radio back on the slot, not caring that it missed completely and fell to the floor on its little curly wire. The two sat back in silence as the car continued idling.

Mack turned to Dan, "I think I'll take the Day Shift from now on, yeah?"

"Or office work at the department," Dan offered, "I hear great things about just doing paperwork all day; not good for your health, but I'll jog in the mornings. I'm also thinking about going back to church on Sundays with Marcy and the kids. You?"

"Oh, yeah." Mack agreed quietly.

The conversation died. They were found an hour later by their replacements and went home for a _long_ vacation.

* * *

In a small clearing in the woods, a large Operator Symbol embedded in a cement driveway flared and three figures and a flaming Fury appeared. The driver unwound its barbed wires from the wheel and turned off the car before snuffing the flames with a flick of the wrist. The passenger hopped out the open top guitar slung over his shoulder.

"Woo! What a rush!" The smaller figure shouted in the night.

The third figure, slowly sat up in the back seat, his hands unfurling from the extra-strength leather seats threatening to tear at a moment's notice. He shakily opened the door and stood up before rounding on the taller figure.

"What. The Hell. Was. _That_. Ay?!" He all but shouted. Adrian's face shifted to normal and he just grinned and raised an eyebrow. "We agree no fire. I provide the locusts, you keep fire to a minimum. You _know_ how I am about that!"

"Well, sorry, but I figured it would do some good to have more fire for a Hell-Themed Prank, right? The whole "Hell's actually really cold" thing wouldn't work and even then nobody here has ice powers. Plus, I think it was worth it. Did you see those cops' faces?"

"I was too busy staring at the flames licking the sides of a steel deathtrap to be honest." Nick shot back angrily. He whistled at the small swarm of locusts who flew into the garage in a uniform fashion before shooting into a small terrarium in the back.

Harry pulled off his mask, revealing his face was red and slightly sweaty, "It was a bit hot, Ay."

Adrian rolled his eyes, "Well it's _fire_. It would be an oxymoron to have cold fire."

"Still, excellent control." Harry offered before turning to Nick, "And your control of the swarm is impressive, too."

"it's easier with hive minds," He mumbled, standing in front of a mirror and fixing the patches of skin he'd torn off for the Hell theme. He looked back at the unmasked boy, "_You_ on the other hand, need to worry about getting Jeff's guitar back before he notices it."

Harry shrugged, "I've got video recordings of the prank. Even if he noticed it's gone (which he probably won't), I'll show him these and it's forgiven."

He pulled a hidden camera from the side of the car (heat proof for the flames) and pulled the recording out of it. He suddenly looked up in thought, "Hey, don't forget the 'incentive' in case we need it."

Nick nodded and pulled out a paper bag from the back seat. Adrian parked the car in the garage among several others and they began their trek along the path back to the main mansion. They joked about the cop's reactions and how awesome the prank went down until they reached the porch.

They quietly opened the door as silently as they could. The foyer was dark and so were the other rooms. Nothing could-

*flip!*

They froze as light shone in from a lamp in the living room. Sitting in the chair, facing them wearing the full mask, was Tim. His arms crossed as he glared through the black eyeholes.

"Hello, boys." He said casually. Adrian maintained composure. Nick fidgeted and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Harry slapped on a wide grin.

"Heeey, Tim, you'll never guess it. We were out and we were a _bit_ late on curfew, _but_ while we were out, we found this amazing bakery and they had a huge special on some really tasty stuff. So, we found a really secret recipe for a certain confection and we thought, 'Wow, Tim's such a great guy. We should buy some for him.' And so we did." He grabbed the bag from Nick's hands and lifted it towards the Proxy, showing a small business logo on the paper and a creamy aroma wafting from it already permeating the room.

Tim got up from the seat and accepted the bag suspiciously. He peeked inside. On the top of the bag was a clear, plastic container with a decently-sized, golden slice of cheesecake with what looked like a strawberry sauce drizzled over a caramelized glaze. He pulled his face away from the opening of the bag and looked at the trio. They could see he was clearly torn between desire and authority.

Desire or authority.

Desire or authority.

Desire won out.

"Okay, this _never_ happened, understand? Just get to bed."

"Yes, sir." Harry said with a mock salute before heading up the stairs.

"And I'm not covering for you if you're falling over tired tomorrow morning." Masky called up after them.

He headed to the kitchen and flipped on the light switch where he was met with his boss waiting arms crossed. If the entity could, the Proxy bet he'd be getting a disapproving eyebrow raise.

"_You cannot seriously be bribed that easily_." Slender deadpanned.

Masky shrunk a bit in shame before looking inside the bag again, "Oh, hey look." He pulled out a small, mini-bag inside the bag with 'Slender' written on the side in marker. "They got something for you, too."

Slendy accepted the bag cautiously and opened it up to pull out a still-warm apricot scone wrapped in some paper.

Slender quietly "looked" between his Proxy and the offering. "_… This never happened, understood?_"

"Yes, sir." Masky was relieved they'd thought up of something in advance and vowed to be a little more lenient next time they stay out after curfew on his watch (just a little bit). His boss leaned against the counter, enjoying his scone as he found a fork in the cutlery drawer.

An entire night that _never happened_…

Understood?

* * *

The next morning, the tenants of the mansion were sitting around breakfast. Nick and Harry were noticeably tired and their heads bobbed every now and then. They had some coffee in front of them with a small plate of breakfast. Adrian looked fine, but he blinked a bit slower than normal and also had a strong cup of black tea steaming in front of him.

Sally noted Harry's plate and pouted, hands on her hips. "Harry, just what is that?" She pointed to his meager plate.

Harry's tired eyes blinked confusedly, "Uh… breakfast?"

"That's not breakfast, that's a snack. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day." She declared. EJ snickered.

"It's true, you know." He agreed. Sally brightened and nodded vigorously as her point was proven by a semi-licensed doctor/scientist.

Harry rolled his bloodshot eyes, "Fine, fine." He pulled an orange from the bowl in the center. "There, happy? I'm too tired for this. I'm British. I _need_ my caffeine. Even if it's not tea, it's caffeine." He raised his cup and took a sip to emphasize the point.

Sally huffed, "You should still eat more. You're as thin as a Rake."

"I resent that saying, you know!" Said skeletal dog-man called out from the open fridge. The group chuckled quietly at the joke as they continued through with their breakfast.

Slender pulled out some manila folders and began reviewing the day's assignments. Before he was able to begin, the back door to the kitchen opened and a familiar figure shuffled in, wings trailing behind him.

"Hey, Mothman!" Jeff called out, for once in the rare state of being awake before 10. The dark figure nodded in acknowledgement and shuffled along the floor until it stopped at the side of the table, drawing itself up to gather attention.

"I bring grave news of the future." It intoned dramatically.

Several tenants sighed quietly. Mothman came around every so often saying something like that about the stupidest things. Jeff interrupted the creature, "What, will the milk spoil again tomorrow morning? Or will the power cut out and BEN's game will lose his high score again."

"That was important information!" BEN argued tearfully, "I lost all of my PacMan data _and_ the program I was writing up because no one told me the power would cut out!"

"I apologize, Benjamin, I neglected to include yourself in my prediction," Mothman replied. "But this is, indeed, urgent. It alters the very course of history. The very Balance itself hangs in the precipice of this moment."

Jeff's eyes widened in mock seriousness, "Ah, right, one of us is gunna swat the spider that mutates to the super species in the next 500 years. Call it!" Nick, Harry, BEN, and Laughing Jack all cursed quietly as he called dibs milliseconds before themselves.

"No. Slender, you must listen. I bring urgent news." He implored the entity, now ignoring the others.

Slender sighed and set down his tea and the folders, "_Very well, Mothman, what is it?_"

The creature wordlessly held up an unconscious owl by its feet from behind his wing. He depressed a pressure point by its beak and caused it to release the letter which it deftly caught mid-float.

Slender's aura became ominous as it took the letter in hand. "_Everyone, meeting in the parlor room in 15 minutes_."

He got up and walked away with the letter, leaving his tea to get cold and the folders untouched. The tenants were in stunned silence as the mood suddenly shifted. Mothman nodded in appreciation at the more appropriate response and stalked to the parlor room with the bird still in its claws.

Harry and the others were now fully awake, but downed the coffee quickly as the others finished up and moved to the parlor room.

They sat in the multitude of chairs and sofas as Slenderman sat in his armchair in a corner by the fireplace, fingers steeped in thought. Laughing Jack was solemn for once as he squatted on top of a chair instead of sitting in it. Sally was swinging her legs under the couch, looking at Slendy with large, concerned eyes. Several others were leaning against walls or supports, waiting impatiently.

Toby was leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed and a small frown on his face. Jeff was mirroring his position on the wall a little ways away. BEN took position next to Sally, but preferred to cross his legs on the couch instead. Mothman and Rake were standing and squatting, respectively, on the floor just next to Slenderman. Eyeless Jack took a seat next to Masky and Hoodie.

"_Harry, Adrian, Nikolaus, would you please sit closer? This pertains to you three most of all._" The three wards were surprised at being singled out and moved to closer seats to the entity.

"_This letter was addressed to Harry. I think it's time I be honest and tell you all what is going on._" Slender held the letter and placed it on the coffee Table. Everyone crowded around as they looked at the address.

_"**Mr. H. Potter**_

**_Third Seat on the Right Side of the Dining Table._**

**_The Mansion._**

**_The Forests, New York_**

**_The United States of America_**"

Those crowded around were in an uncomfortable silence as they leaned back, letting others get a better look.

"That… is… creepily specific," Jeff commented.

"H-how do these people know that?" Harry asked nervously.

"_I am not sur__e. Though I also find it entirely uncanny_." Slenderman admitted.

"Who are these weirdos anyway?" Laughing Jack asked still precariously balanced on a chair back.

Slenderman looked to be debating something before deciding, "_Harry. I believe this letter explains it all._" He handed the letter to the stunned 10 year old (almost 11). Harry opened it and his eyes widened in disbelief before Slender motioned him to read it aloud.

The boy licked his lips before reading, "'Dear Mr. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'. Wait, what?"

"_Please keep reading_," Slender motioned through the others obviously bursting to ask questions.

"'Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall'. Owl? Acceptance? Slender, I-I don't understand. I'm confused." Harry stammered.

Slender gave a breathless sigh, "_Centuries ago, I discovered a society, an entire race of people living right under the noses human civilization. They call themselves 'wizards' and 'witches'._"

"Wait," Jeff interrupted, "You mean like… _real_ witches and wizards. Like, flying-on-a-broomstick, bubbling cauldrons _witches_?" He asked incredulously. Toby nodded starry-eyed.

Sally gasped excitedly, "Does that mean there are real fairies? Or unicorns? Or wands and flying deer?"

Slendy chuckled, "_I can't vouch for all of that, but yes, essentially the stories are true. Though, I'm willing to bet our understanding has changed from how they actually are._

"_Now, they appeared to have separated from the main society of humanity centuries ago and developed in isolation. They rely on memory modification and attention redirection to keep out anyone they deem 'lower than themselves', which from the texts a few hundred years ago, essentially encompassed everyone non-magical. They appear to have taken strides to divide their own 'world' into superiority tiers as well. Though, they appear largely as unaware of our world as the average human._

"_Now, these texts I referenced are well over 300 years old, so they may have changed since then… though…_" He trailed off, uncertain. "_It appears magic has been around since man's beginning. The only reason we haven't dealt with them in the past is because they're so adept at hiding themselves and prior to the split between the magical world and the human world, magic was less common, less advanced, and usually self-destructive. We would leave the Lonely Witch to her cabin and, in time, she'd either blow herself up from a spell or potion or be burnt at the stake by irate villagers._" Slender shrugged. "_We didn't concern ourselves much with those things._

"_Now, they have a custom in the UK region where magical children at 11 are accepted into a prestigious, magical academy called Hogwarts. Harry has received the letter today and they want our response soon as he is a British national by birth. The reason I called Nikolaus and Adrian is because I have reason to believe that they may have this 'magic' as well_."

Nick was flabbergasted while Adrian's eyes darted around unfocused, trying to logically consider this. "_We are aware of these people primarily by their previous attempts to locate Harry._" Harry sat straighter in shock. "_Over a few months after we initially brought you here, we received multiple owls, ferrets, eagles, and etcetera frying against the mansion's wards. I had them updated to prevent the creatures from finding us in the first place, but it seems they have a way none-the-less. The headmaster listed in the letter, this 'Headmaster Dumbledore' was apparently behind a large search group in the UK after your disappearance._"

"But why?!" Harry cried out suddenly. "Why go after me?! What have I done?!"

"Hey," Jeff called out, "what if we just _ignore_ the letter?" Harry calmed slightly until Mothman shook his head.

"I foresee… letters in a lot of unusual places and a flood of parchment… they will not leave us alone and they are persistent."

Jeff tilted his head in thought, "By 'unusual places', what exactly do you-"

Mothman held up a hand to cut him off while smirking, "I foresee instances of discovering letters in Sally's teapot, in Eyeless Jack's cadavers, the cereal boxes, and in particular one instance involving yourself where all of a certain paper has vanished and been replaced with crinkly, _scratchy, painful_ parchment."

Jeff's white face turned slightly red as he shifted uncomfortably. Mothman turned back to Slender in complete seriousness. "However, I foresee that the massive influx of such powerful letters will eventually overwhelm the protections entirely…" The ominous implication hung over the room like a stormcloud.

The tall entity nodded grimly, "_I see_."

"Why would they do this?" Harry muttered angrily. "Why would they go through so much trouble?! Can't they just leave me alone!" His voice gained volume.

"_Now, Harry, calm dow-_"

"I will not be calm!" Harry retorted. The lights started flickering around him, "These people are after me and I don't even know why or what they want when they get me! Why didn't you tell me about them, Slender? I trusted you!"

The fireplace flared to life, "Why are these people stalking me! I'm just Harry! I'm nobody special!"

BEN was shivering uncontrollably as Smile whined, pawing at his ears. "Why did the world make me such a… a… _freak!_"

The glass bulbs burst and the windows spiderwebbed as Harry shouted the last word and ran out the foyer door. BEN recovered slowly and the fire faded to a dim glow as everyone sat stunned from the information and the display.

Slenderman sighed and set the remains of the letter on the table. Harry's outburst caused the edges of the paper to smolder just a bit, but both papers were still safe as were the contents. He skimmed both sheets, contemplating everything that had happened and set them on the table.

He left the Proxies sitting and digesting this information and walked out to the porch. Harry was long gone, but Slender could see a few scorch mark footprints trailing into the forest. He sighed.

Lightning exploded from the forest.

* * *

Harry stood huffing in the center of a black circle in a familiar clearing. The trees still had scorch scars from almost 2 years earlier, but the vegetation had recovered… well, the vegetation recovered except for the unfortunate plants smoking and sizzling in the meter-wide radius around himself.

He took a spot angrily on the large stone in the middle of the clearing, burning a few patches of grass along the way.

It wasn't fair!

Who were these people? Why were they trying so hard to get to him? What did they want? Why was _Slenderman_ of all people being so cautious about them?

He felt his hair rise again from the anger producing static discharges around him. It all made no sense! It was all so frustrating and confusing and frightening!

All of this; magic, wizards, witches, Hog-pimples or whatever. It was all just so out of the blue. And Nick and Adrian may have it too, that was just mind boggling as well!

Since he was seven, he had a family. He belonged. He'd been through stressful situations and frightening events. He'd bonded with those around him and found comfort in his life here at the mansion. He knew where his life was going, too. Helping the Balance, helping Slendy, helping his family.

Now, these _people_, these unbalanced, unrelenting wizards were trying to take him away into a society rife with chaos and secrecy. He didn't know what would happen.

What if they took him back to the Dursleys?

What if they kept Slender and the others away?

What if they made him forget?

He almost vomited his small amount of coffee and breakfast at the thought. All of this, his entire life for the last 4 years, gone in a flash of light from a wand. Replaced with something _false_ that those wizards might try to shove in his head to keep him away from where he belonged.

Here.

"_Harry?_"

Once again, like a couple years ago, Harry turned and found Slenderman standing at the edge of the clearing. The entity walked over and sat down on the rock, awkwardly shifting his limbs to sit comfortably.

"How did you know I was here?" Harry mumbled angrily, still not meeting his guardian's… 'eyes'?

"_You usually come here when you're upset… additionally, a bolt of bright, blue lightning on a normal, overcast morning is rather hard to miss_."

Harry could help but chuckle, dissipating the anger. He firmed his resolve and stubbornly fought back the small smile that formed, preferring to keep angry, but still battling the small humor provided.

"_Harry, I want to apologize_," The humor evaporated fast and Harry turned to his guardian. "_I should not have kept you in the dark about this for so long. I should have told you when I found out…_"

"But why didn't you?" Harry asked quietly.

"_… In all honesty, I was hopeful we could completely ignore or avoid these people entirely. They are an unstable, unsustainable society. Their 'breeding program' causes more harm than their perceived 'good'. Their ideas are completely polarized into either good or bad, black or white_-"

"Two wolves," Harry murmured, remembering a similar talk long ago.

"_Yes. They are tearing themselves apart, slowly. Century by century until I predict they will cause their own self-destruction. I'd have preferred to keep as far away from that as possible. It seemed unsafe to become involved._" Slender sighed, "_I have read books on their world from almost 300 years ago and it seemed… unnerving._"

He interrupted Harry's questioning glance, "_And I know 300 years is a lot of time to change, but… I feared they were slow to accept or enact change. I allowed that to blind me and keep you in the dark as well. For that I am sorry._"

Harry sat on the rock, staring at the space in front of him. He watched a small blade of grass bend and curl as the heat got to it. "I'm not angry at you... I'm scared," He admitted softly, "I'm scared that they'll take me away. I'm scared what they'll do. I'm scared what will happen." He looked at his guardian, "I'm scared they'll make me forget everything here and keep everyone away from me."

"_Harry,_" Slender replied, "_No one can predict the future. All we can do is prepare for it as best we can. And if those foolish wizards _dare_ take you away, then you know that come Hell or high water, we will scour the earth until we find you again_."

Harry nodded, a faint smile forming. He could definitely see Slender walking the world to search for any of them regardless of the distance or obstacles. Everyone at the mansion was loyal and devoted to each other.

And he was devoted to them, too.

"Back on _that_ birthday," he began slowly, "I made a promise that I would help everyone here… my _family_ with anything they had. I saw the Balance as the best way to do it."

He looked up at Slenderman, determined, "If this society needs help finding Balance, then I want to help. I want us to work together to help maintain the Balance of the Universe. Even if it's dangerous, I want to be there with everyone every step of the way."

Slenderman felt a small bit of pride at the young ward's speech. Then Harry grinned, "Plus, I'll learn _magic_! How cool is that!?"

Slender couldn't help but chuckle at the boy's sudden enthusiasm and nodded, "_So, Harry, do you want to write a reply?_" Harry nodded and they left the smoldering clearing to put itself out from the permanent, heavy fog.

The house soon came into view as the wizard suddenly had a thought, "Slendy, will the owl be ready to go anytime soon? It looked rather… incapacitated don't you think?"

They walked through the door, "_I'm sure the owl will be just fi- Rake, no! Put down that bird! Smile! That doesn't mean you can _eat_ it! Argh!_"

* * *

**AN:**

**I don't own anything, least of all Spongebob and Harry Potter.**

* * *

**Hello everyone,**

**I received a review earlier saying this was pretty M-themed and I wanted to address it.**

**I realize this story is precariously on the M side of things. Really, I do. I'm always paranoid that I overstep it and so I actively try to tone it down as far as I can without losing fundamental qualities of the chapter or story.**

**I found creepypastas when I was around 17 to 18. Since then, I've loved the stories and characters. I've listened to audio recordings in my free time, while driving alone, and even while doing simple homework.**

**However, I can still understand how someone about 13 may be uncomfortable with things like drugs, alcohol, murder, etc. That's why I suggested "older Teen" in the first chapter, implying15 or 16 and older where it seems like they're more familiar with this material and at least somewhat more responsible. Plus, around 15 to 16 seems the general target range for creepypastas, themselves.**

**I try to keep it cleaner than it could be, but in my defense a large majority of creepypasta stories are extremely gory, filled with swearing, and coated in violence. It's just in the nature of creepypastas. So people clicking on this fic when the summary states "Creepypasta" should expect some level of uncomfortable topics.**

**All I want to do is pursue a fun hobby and provide people entertainment with my stories.**

**Sincerely,**

**-Crow**

* * *

**-Mothman: local legend at Point Pleasant, West Virginia. Said to give ominous prophetic appearances just before disasters strike around the area he was seen.**


	21. The Letter (Part 2)

**AN: I know the last chapter was somewhat short, so I decided to upload the original second half to it a little early.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Breakfast at the Great Hall was livelier than it had been in years, even though the student tables were silent and empty. The staff was happily eating the eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, and more provided at the Head Table. Even McGonagall had a small upturn to her lips as she read the Prophet. The only one not joining the good mood was Severus Snape, scowling down at a plate of two sunny-side up eggs and curved smiley-faced bacon that appeared in front of him (which he was willing to bet several of the staff bribed or requested the House Elves to provide specifically to him).

Early in the morning that day, the owl was sent out to Harry Potter. The sense of hope that had been hard to come by since his disappearance had returned. Of course, the rest of the Wizarding World didn't know, but Dumbledore had something in mind to gently tell the general public that their savior was alive and returning.

Dumbledore himself was happily munching on a lemon muffin he had specially ordered. Since that day four years ago, he'd felt an enormous weight of anxiety and fury being lifted off of his mind. At last, Potter would be found again. He would return to the Wizarding world as is right. He would learn under his tutelage and fight Voldemort or die trying.

Though, he still had questions. Many questions for the boy when they found him. And Albus Dumbledore was hardly used to not having the answers.

For one, what happened to the Potter vaults and wealth? When he'd visited to check on the status of the vaults, he'd discovered the goblins confused from a long, mysterious paper trail leading to several definite facts.

As of December 25th almost four years ago, Harry Potter became a ward of an unknown party.

Said party had control over the Potter vaults.

Said party held control over the Potter influence and power.

Said party held control over all of the contents of the Potter vaults, themselves.

And, finally, no matter how much the goblins investigated the entire bureaucracy of Gringotts, "Said Party" had no name in any of the forms, but still existed. From the account manager to the goldsmiths who made the key, the papers circulated around the rungs of Gringotts always came back with a denial for Albus Dumbledore's involvement with the Potter accounts with no reason, but the decision could not be circumvented, altered, or reasoned with.

The goblins were furious at first, believing some form of fraud was involved, but quickly turned to confusion and mild anxiety as it all still somehow proved legitimate.

The only reason Dumbledore was able to use Potter funds for rebuilding Number 4 Privet Drive was because the necessary amount had just barely been removed in time for the mysterious transfer of guardianship.

So, not only were these people capable of combating and confounding an entire system of magical beings dedicated to paperwork and bureaucracy, but they could do so without even naming themselves in the process. A feat not even he could pull off.

Then, of course, there was the other night.

The aged headmaster's eyes darkened in frustration as he glared briefly at his poor, innocent muffin before composing himself and reflecting.

* * *

***flashback***

Dumbledore watched the quill write out Harry Potter's invitation letter and sealed the envelope before paying attention, especially, to the address.

_"**Mr. H. Potter**_

**_Third Seat on the Right Side of the Dining Table._**

**_The Mansion._**

**_The Forests, New York_**

**_The United States of America_**"

His mind sputtered in confusion. Yes, the first part of the letter was fairly standard. Name with the uncanny knowledge of exactly where the recipient will be upon receiving the letter (if all went smoothly), but the magic associated with the quill and Book of Students was absolute and precise.

"The Mansion" is far too vague!

What mansion? What was the name of the mansion? It couldn't just be called "Mansion mansion"!

Then, "The Forests, New York". New York State, contrary to the large, urban city it's known for, has millions of acres of dense woodlands. It was too generic, there were no national parks just named the Forest, the quill would pick up on the proper name of the forest at the very least! Otherwise, it would give the nearest town or the county the forest falls under. It couldn't possibly just be "Forest".

Lastly, how in the world did Harry Potter get all the way to America! It was simply confounding!

His mind raced and whirred and bubbled with anger and thoughts as he processed all of this before the quill had even enough time to levitate to the next parchment for a relatively unimportant student.

No, no, he had to focus on Harry Potter at the moment. He could not spare Oliver Rivers a second thought. This took precedence.

He took the sealed and addressed envelope from ending up in the general stack of others to be mailed out later that morning. Instead, he enacted his plan.

With all of the other staff watching his movements, he marched purposefully to the window and let out a high whistle. A moment later, a tawny owl flew through the open window and onto a perch by Fawkes' own (usually reserved for resting owls from Ministry business or similar). He personally handed the letter to one of Hogwarts' most reliable owls in the Owelry, Dusty.

The bird took the letter in its beak, a faint golden light shone over the two indicating the owl had accepted the enchantments of the letter to get the missive to the recipient at all costs.

Now was the moment of truth.

About 3 and a half years ago, his attempts to contact Harry Potter were thrown through a loop as the enchantments and methods he'd used to get owls and various messenger animals to locate the boy suddenly stopped working.

It was at that point, he'd feared the worst. It took a while to get the owls to find his magical signature enough to _try_ to bring the letters despite returning confused and frustrated or never returning at all. Then, the owls returned to simply flying in a circle around the tower and returning sadly to the window indicating that even with the (illegal) charms and enchantments, they now couldn't find him.

That only happened if the recipient was no longer on Earth, no longer in the present time stream (it had happened before)-

Or dead.

This was why it all rested on the ancient magic of Hogwarts' letters. The Book of Students listed children dead or alive, but the _quill_ was the one that confirmed they were able to receive their letter. So, Harry Potter was alive.

Now it came down to whether or not he would still receive his letter.

The owl flapped its wings and flew out the window. Dumbledore's heart almost stopped as the owl flew in a circle around the top of the Astronomy tower.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Then, a faint, blue light shimmered across the owl and formed a spiderweb-thin thread of archaic magic in a one specific direction before vanishing. The owl stopped circling and moved along the line, now imprinted in its mind.

The dark shape of the owl glided silently through the night.

And Dumbledore couldn't help but grin triumphantly.

* * *

Now, biting into the lemony breakfast treat, he could feel relaxed for once without his plans being interrupted by the constant stream of questions regarding the boy's health. He could plan and focus properly for the first time in a long while.

"Albus!"

He turned to Minerva's gasp and saw her staring at the roof of the ceiling, he calmly followed her gaze and rested on the most peculiar bird he'd ever seen.

It looked like a large raven or a black eagle, but that was the most he could make out. Instead of a bird, it seemed more like a three dimensional silhouette or shadow of a bird. It was entirely black with no defined feathers aside from those in the silhouette itself, no defined separation between wings, legs, beak or otherwise. The only discerning feature were two ruby-red eyes glowing in the head. If it weren't for the eyes shifting around the head as it turned and the figure casting its own shadow behind it, the creature could very well be considered a very well-defined shadow cast on the ceiling by an unseen bird.

The shade ceased circling before landing in front of the aged Headmaster, carrying an envelope with a small, black seal over it. He had never seen the curious stamp on it. A simple circle with two lines forming a cross through it. It hadn't belonged to any family or organization that he knew of. More-so, the addressee was listed as either himself or Minerva.

He allowed his deputy to briefly glance at her own name on the front before her eyes widened. He ran diagnostic charms for everything from curses to poison to junk mail and it all came up negative. He opened the seal and removed a simple page of muggle paper. He read.

_Headmaster Dumbledore or Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,_

_We have received Harry Potter's letter of acceptance and we have some concerns about him attending. We are aware of the magical world to a degree, but prefer to stay away from it if possible._

_Over the years, Harry has developed fairly powerful control over his magic as we are able to discern as well as attain a large degree of special tutoring._

_Harry himself has decided to consider your school, though he has two friends who may also share his ability that he requests may come as well. We will be able to fund all three tuitions, so that is no concern._

_We just want to know more about this school and whether or not it is the right choice for Harry and his friends._

_We thank you for the opportunity and information._

_Sincerely,_

_-Solomon Lindermann_

_P.S. Please send your reply by way of the messenger bird provided. We apologize for the state of your owl, but several of our residents have a peculiar taste for birds._

He stared at the post script, eyebrows knitted together-

There was a shriek followed by a loud *thunk!* as a mass of feathers landed on his breakfast plate.

Dusty the owl was weakly cooing in the middle of a splatter of egg and bacon. Hagrid immediately rushed over and scooped the small creature in his large hands, bringing him over to Flitwick to begin conjuring bird-sized splints and perform charms for knitting tissue together.

"Pr'fessor?" Hagrid says quietly. Dumbledore motions for him to continue, "This 'ere bird's almost been eaten, sir. Bite marks on the wing. Ne'er seen teeth anythin' like it, s'matter of fact." He bent down and gently held the wing to examine the semi-circle of red tooth marks.

"Hagrid, could you care for the owl while I write a reply?" Dumbledore asked, eyeing the shadowy bird perched on an extinguished torch. The Headmaster wandlessly and wordlessly summoned a spare bit of parchment, a spare envelope and a fully-inked quill to him from his office, keeping appearances before the teachers.

Another wave of his hand ensured the splatter of food was gone and he had a clean space to write. He touched the quill to his lip in heavy thought as he contemplated the first letter regarding the existence of Harry Potter in years. Lindermann was not a pureblood, halfbood, or otherwise magical family name that he knew of. Then again, he wasn't terribly interested in what happened outside of England and his sphere of influence.

However, regardless of the family itself, they apparently knew about the magical world. What's more, they knew enough to _train_ Harry Potter in it. He did not like the sound of it. What had they taught him? What has been drilled into the impressionable boy's mind after all these years? For all he knew, they could be dealing with an unpredictable Dark Lord in the making on their hands.

Normally, as was the case with Tom Riddle, he wouldn't care all too much and still allow admittance or push for admittance seeing opportunities to keep a firm reign on them, but for someone so powerful magically, politically, and socially, Harry Potter had the power to completely dethrone him from the public's opinion. Perhaps even without trying.

There was too much at risk. Too many variables in place that he didn't see the patterns to. And as much as he was loath to admit, too much he simply _did not know_.

He needed to start off slowly. Too forward and he'd possibly drive them away, too little and he may not convince them to come here where Potter was needed. Keep the boundaries there, but slowly push them.

Where to start? The two students. It was not unheard of, but it was still a minor inconvenience to him that he could (regardless of how little work there actually is involved in that process) ingratiate this Mr. Lindermann to himself by admitting the two unknown students. Additionally, they could serve as routes of influence on Mr. Potter himself. These two students in his school provide new methods and options for gaining control over Harry when he arrived.

He began to pen a reply;

_Mr. Lindermann,_

_I admit I am surprised and relieved to discover Harry is well and under your care. Your two students can, of course, be accommodated as soon as the necessary paperwork is completed._

_As for your concerns, I have the utmost confidence in the quality and safety of my school, so you need not worry at all about Mr. Potter or his friends._

_I am sure we can provide your children with the highest quality education in the magical world. Please provide a more exact location so my fellow professors or I may personally escort Mr. Potter to Britain to purchase supplies and provide housing in London so he may board the Hogwarts Express on September First on time and safely._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot_

_Supreme Mugwump of the ICW_

_Order of Merlin (First Class) Recipient_

He sealed the missive in an envelope and before he could attempt to write the address as he'd remembered it, the black bird swooped down onto the table and snatched it in its beak before taking off and out the window. Dumbledore was too stunned to do anything and by the time he'd collected himself, the bird was long gone.

His staff watched the window in stunned silence for a few minutes. Finally, McGonagall turned to him and murmured low, "Albus, please tell me what, exactly, is going on. What was that bird? Why did it come here?"

Dumbledore debated internally for a second before answering. "Ah, Minerva, that was the response from Harry Potter's guardian." The table gasped collectively as they leaned in anxiously. "He has come under the care of a "Mr. Solomon Lindermann" in America. I can't seem to recall anyone of that name, do any of you?"

He was displeased when he saw headshakes all around, no progress on that route. "In either case, Mr. Lindermann has expressed concern over our school. Naturally, I wrote to put him at ease with it." They nodded, happily content that the Headmaster's words would be trusted and followed. "However, we should prepare for two new students. He has informed me that he has two other magical children with him at the moment interested in coming with Harry."

"I'll begin the transfer papers immediately." The Headmaster nodded and McGonagall rose from her seat dropping her napkin in her place. She froze in place, staring upwards and he followed her gaze again.

That blasted bird was back! It was just sitting there on the extinguished torch again-

-with another letter!

They watched as the now-noticed bird swooped onto the Head Table and delivered the next letter. The bird returned to its spot, watching them. The elderly transfiguration professor was still poised to stand and slowly sat back down, "Albus? Is that another letter from Potter?"

Dumbledore looked at the letter in his hands and slowly broke the seal.

_Albus Dumbledore_ (not even a single title, he thought irritably)_,_

_We would prefer to speak with someone in person prior to making such a decision. Of course, we will consider Hogwarts, but we would greatly appreciate a reliable source to provide more information._

_As for the coordinates, we would prefer to meet in London. If possible, we recommend Hyde Park, Queen Victoria's Memorial, or some similarly notable tourist landmark between 12:00 noon and 3:00 in the afternoon._

_Sincerely,_

_Solomon Lindermann_

Dumbledore read the letter aloud to his colleagues then sat in his throne-like chair in pensive thought. McGonagall voiced one of his primary interests, though.

"How could that bird get a response so quick? We've barely witnessed it leave and now it returns with a response! International owls take _hours_ to reach such distances. Days even!" She cast a nervous glance towards the ominous creature eyeing the staff.

"I am aware, Minerva," he replied in a placating voice, "but right now, I believe we have a missive to reply to."

"Who will go with them?" Professor Flitwick squeaked, "I admit I'm rather unfamiliar with the London area given my appearance and the Statute of Secrecy."

"The Quivering Tracheathorns are in a delicate stage of development," Professor Sprout added, "I'm afraid I will be unable to leave them long enough to escort Mr. Potter. Even then, I haven't visited muggle London in years."

Dumbledore briefly glanced at Professor Snape… then remembered he wanted to _not_ scare them away. He smiled genially, "I believe Hagrid may do an excellent job."

The half-giant as well as a majority of the staff were stunned and a little flustered, "M-me, sir?"

"Yes, Hagrid. I trusted you all those years ago with transporting Mr. Potter and I feel it fitting that you be the one to reintroduce him to the Wizarding World." He continued beaming confidence. In reality, Hagrid was more reliable to ward off anyone interested in getting _too _close to Mr. Potter as well as encouraging the correct image of himself and Hogwarts. Mere conversation with the overly-caring man would ensure the seeds of interest in Gryffindor, the Light, and the good image he, the Headmaster, had cultivated over the decades.

"With all due _respect_, sir," Snape hissed, rising from his spot at the end of the table, "Have you gone completely senile? Hagrid is more conspicuous in the muggle world than Flitwick and he is not qualified to adequately introduce a muggleborn or muggle-raised student into the proper Wizarding World. Let alone provide the proper information Mr. Lindermann is searching for. Not that we need the Potter brat in the first place." He mumbled the last.

"Yes, but I-"

He was cut off by McGonagall, "Albus, I've trusted your judgment for years, but I really must protest. As Deputy Headmistress, it falls on my shoulders to ensure the non-magical families of students are informed of Hogwarts. I've done it countless times and I am sure I can provide a good enough impression to ensure Mr. Potter's guardian is comfortable with Hogwarts."

Dumbledore's eye twinkle dimmed slightly before coming back full force, "Very well, Minerva, I shall inform them so."

Minerva McGonagall was good a second choice. While a little too willful and opinionated, she was still entirely dedicated to the Light and towards his own good image. She would do well enough and, perhaps, give Hogwarts a better light than Hagrid could. Plus, knowing Minerva, she was infinitely more subtle in obtaining information.

Yes, she was an excellent choice in retrospect.

He picked up the quill.

_Mr. Lindermann,_

_We have discussed among the staff and have come to an agreement that Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall will be your escort._

_However, due to your location, we strongly encourage you to simply provide your coordinates. It is far easier for yourself and you will find that Wizards and Witches have ways of getting to locations regardless of an inconvenient distance._

_We look forward to Mr. Potter's enrollment._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot_

_Supreme Mugwump of the ICW_

_Order of Merlin (First Class) Recipient_

As he expected, no sooner had he sealed the envelope did the black bird come down and try to snatch it away. He simply held it out and watched the bird take it in its beak before he twisted his hand under the table, feeling a silent, wandless, basic tracking charm attach to the letter as it sailed out the window.

The staff did not get up this time, instead watching the window anxiously. Ten minutes later, the bird came through again and directly flew down onto Dumbledore's spot.

_Mr. Dumbledore _('Mr.'?! Such disrespect, he fumed silently),

_We appreciate the offer, but we would prefer to meet in London. Any other locations would prove to be inconvenient or _unwise_ to meet._

_Solomon Lindermann_

_P.S. The gift is unappreciated_

In his reading aloud, he neglected to include the post script. He was nervously aware of what it meant, but thought it better not to tell the staff. His own tracking charm that he, personally, had placed on an outgoing parchment, was now mysteriously attached to an entirely different piece of paper like some object that could be stuck to different surfaces… what did muggle children call them? Stickers!

What's more, reading the letter brought a small shiver of discomfort at the word 'unwise'. It felt directly threatening, but at the same time he couldn't find a reason behind his paranoia.

Minerva spoke, "I am familiar enough with muggle London to escort Mr. Potter. I've introduced enough muggleborn families to know several landmarks they prefer to meet. I believe Noon at the Soho Square Gardens. It's one of the closest tourist landmarks by the Alley. Tell them I will have a red and gold flag with me."

Snape snorted, "Gryffindor much?"

She ignored him, "I believe tomorrow should prove acceptable to my schedule."

Dumbledore penned the information into the letter before the bird took it and flew off. Minutes later came the reply.

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_Please express our gratitude towards Professor McGonagall for agreeing to our requests. We believe the time and location are acceptable._

_I must inform you that I will have to allow several other wards to accompany us on the trip. They are aware of magic and should not be terribly bothersome._

_I will arrive tomorrow._

_Solomon Lindermann_

The aged Headmaster nodded in slight relief that the issue at hand had been dealt with rather well into his favor. However, his thoughts were cut short as a _second_ of those blasted birds came with another letter.

He opened the seal and read:

_I apologize for neglecting this information, but _if_ we choose Hogwarts, I must insist on several wards and myself accompanying the three for at least the first week to monitor their adjustment._

_S. Lindermann_

The request was odd… no, _highly_ unorthodox. To think, allowing muggles into Hogwarts! He had been Headmaster for well over half a century and not once had any muggleborn parents the gall to request such a thing! His school was absolute and to question it (and by extension, himself) was practically unheard of. Then again, they were _American_.

He bit back a scowl, not just at the brazen attitude but at the extremely emphasized "if". They were constantly holding it over his head that they had not decided yet and were continuously suggesting that Harry Potter could go _anywhere_ other than Hogwarts. Unthinkable!

Through the (less-than-legal) mail redirect, he'd acquired the letter from America's Salem Academy of Magic and summarily rejected it on the grounds that he was Mr. Potter's magical guardian (though at the time he wasn't, technically). He repeated the process for the multitude of international organizations and academies offering scholarships or positions or brochures for a rather prominent figure in Wizarding Britain.

His reply was terse, but informed Mr. Lindermann that he would allow it. Hogwarts was large and had plenty of rooms for House Elves to convert into guest quarters with relative ease, but having Mr. Potter's family so close to the castle could prove beneficial to himself. He could meet with them, learn from them, and summarily manipulate them into giving up their hold on Harry. For the Greater Good.

He left the table and returned to his office to begin the actions necessary to prepare for Mr. Potter's guardian's arrival. He soon found himself alone in his office and pulled out the Elder Wand. A prize from his former friend Gellert Grindelwald.

He absentmindedly swirled it, letting sparks drift from the tip to form a small spiral galaxy. He enjoyed watching it spin slowly in place before suddenly slashing across from it with his wand and plummeting the whole constellation of meaningless sparks into chaos. It was rather empowering; creating a galaxy and destroying it on a whim.

He focused on the wand again, though.

It hadn't worked since, but…

He bent over and held the stick a foot above the floor. With minor willpower, he let the wand levitate in place. He connected with the wand from a distance and murmured, "Point me."

The wand spun violently in place before shuddering to a stop, releasing a fountain of foul-colored sparks, and falling to the ground.

Dumbledore sighed. The same reaction as before. He hypothesized after the first time that where the wand stopped was actually the correct location, but repeating the spell caused it to point in different locations each time. What's more, a simple follow-through of the spell's original direction revealed it pointed to somewhere in Australia, not New York. The second spell to India, third spell to Canada, fourth to the Arctic Circle, and so on.

He wandlessly summoned the powerful artifact to his hand and tucked it back in his pocket. He reached for a small bowl of lemon drops, savoring the sweet and sour flavor. While he did not agree with a majority of muggle technology, their confections in any time period are certainly nothing to scoff at.

*chime*

A tiny bell hidden above his doorway indicated that someone approached the gargoyle below. He checked one of the bobbles on his desk not related to Harry Potter and it formed a smoky image of Hagrid. He checked the massively-confusing pocket watch of planets, stars, moons, and baubles before he nodded. Right on time.

He sat back and let the half-giant caretaker get close to the door. He was just raising his hand to knock-

"Come in, Hagrid."

A little bit of the awe-inspiring impression of omniscience never hurt.

It worked, the large man walked in the door mildly awestruck. Truth be told, the man was awestruck by half of the things Dumbledore did on a regular basis. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

"Ah, yes, Hagrid. You see, I have a mission that I need you to carry out. I trust you explicitly for this job." He large man glowed with pride and a little bashfulness at the praise.

"I need you to pick something up from Gringotts-"

* * *

**AN: I hope you enjoyed this update!**

**I own nothing!**

**-Crow**

**P.S. Thank you to everyone for your words of support. They really help.**

**P.P.S. Did anyone catch what I did with the letters?**


	22. The Leaky Cauldron

**AN: When I typed this chapter, I wrote and re-read the lines for McGonagall in Dame Maggie Smith's voice style. Overall, I think I got a good idea of how she sounded dialogue-wise.**

**Also, to end the guessing game, I meant Slender's alias 'S. Lindermann' was a play off words to make Slindermann and, thus, Slenderman.**

* * *

Slenderman sat at the kitchen table, nursing a strong cup of tea… laced with a little "extra". Even if his body was virtually immune to the effects of alcohol, it was the sentiment that counted.

Today had been eventful to say the least and downright stressful as an understatement. He had successfully informed the entire mansion of magic. Yes, it was a shock to everyone, but given that they were regularly around inhuman beings and unnatural situations, it wasn't difficult to accept.

Then, he had successfully navigated the communications with _Dumbledore_ of all people. Thankfully, tomorrow morning, they would leave to meet this Professor McGonagall instead of the Headmaster. Though, he knew the eventual confrontation was inevitable. He was just thankful, though suspicious, that his demands were met and he would be able to monitor Harry to ensure nothing happened.

He took a small sip from the cup.

"_Oh, my_," The entity almost spat the liquid back out in absolute shock. He harshly swallowed the hot tea before turning to find a dark figure lounging in the kitchen chair. The figure's many mouths were forming a half smirk across its body and it gave an amused glance at the cup in Slenderman's hands.

"_I always said that this job of yours would drive you to drink. And to think; Darjeeling! You need to slow down, my friend. Stick to Earl Gray or Chamomile._" Slender gave a withering glare at the entity (an impressive feat without eyes) before setting the cup back in the saucer.

"_Hello, Zalgo. I see you've let yourself in. Would you care for anything?_" He offered stiffly.

"_Oh, I don't know_," The demon replied with feigned innocence. "_How about Blood Wine? I love the late B.C. vintages. Or sacrificial virgin blood? Much rarer to come by fresh these days. Oh, I know! How about water from the Seas of Madness?_"

"_Ah, holy water with a dash of clove and garlic. I'll get right on that._" Slender nodded. The unholy spirit of madness scowled and its eyes glowed dangerously red. It took a deep breath, making the red cracks in its skin glow like embers before resuming its mocking smile.

"_While I do enjoy playful banter, I hear that things as of late have become rather eventful._"

"_Yes, of course. It's always hectic regarding my wards, but it's nothing-_"

"_I meant the rather curious boy you have in your custody. I hear he's adjusted so well to this. And his abilities are remarkable. Almost _magical_."_

Slenderman broke the handle off of the cup in his hands, but didn't look away from the demonic entity lounging in front of him. "_What do you want, Zalgo?_" He spoke ominously. "_Harry is my ward. Ergo, any threats to him… I take rather _personally_._"

"_No, no, no, my overprotective friend. I'm just pointing out a simple speculation. Nothing more, nothing less._" All seven of his mouths twisted into a Cheshire grin, "_I won't tell anyone, of course. 'No need to get the Council involved' is my motto. But I just wanted to tell you a few things before you dive face first into this. Oh, speaking of face first, earlier today there was this skateboarder on a halfpike, so I jammed his wheel and _sooo_ much skin came off-_"

"_Zalgo._" He knew the entity was stalling for suspense.

"_Right, right. Well, anyways, I've been keeping an eye on Harry ever since I figured out what that he's been here. Fascinating boy, really. However, I've noticed those pesky owls early on when you first got him. I heard about your ward updates and how it somehow coincided with those owls suddenly stopping. Then, I _happen_ upon the feeling that your wards are breached. Afterwards, you use a Council Shadow Messenger not once, but several times? I admit, I was curious._"

"_Your concern is, unfortunately, unwarranted and unwelcome. I have everything under control._" Slender grit out through clenched mind-teeth (Even Zalgo was confused by his own thoughts, there).

Zalgo grinned, "_I know you have everything in hand. You always have everything in order. But… I think you could always use a helping hand. So, I want to make a sort-of deal. No catches or string attached._" He raised his hands and feet and showed that not one part of his body was crossed. Slender snorted at the childish approach, but didn't put it against the demon to pull something like it just for laughs.

"_I want to have a little fun. And I can't imagine a better way than pulling something over on the Council like this. Plus, that kid seems like a good investment. And so…_" One of the mouths on his shoulder opened wide, revealing black gums and red teeth before a long, black, slimy tongue curled out and unfurled. On the end was a golden key that Zalgo picked up and wiped with one of the kitchen table's napkins before setting it in front of him.

Slenderman cautiously picked up the small trinket and observed it under the table lamp. It was a simple design, with a symbol he recognized all-too-easily from the years of experience in dealing with the spirit in front of him. He flipped it over; **Gringotts**.

The Wizarding bank?

"_And just where did you get this, Zalgo?_"

"_An old investment. It's just been stagnantly sitting in their vaults. Silently gathering dust and tilting their economy by keeping many… what were they called? Some kind of ship… ah, yes, many galleons out of circulation. I figure I've had my fun with that. It gets rather boring after a while. I figure I can _reinvest_ it in some new entertainment. Ehehe! And from this incredulous plan of yours, Ahaha! I suspect I will be entertained for _years!_ Ahahahaha! Hahahahaha!_" He broke down in cackles and full gale laughter, but Slender ignored it and turned back to the key in his hand.

Was it worth it?

Taking Zalgo's offering?

It was Zalgo, after all, nothing came without a price, but given his fondness for chaos it seems as though he simply got bored and sees Slender's life as a new television program to entertain himself. So, this would, in effect, be his way of simply paying for some cable service. A small bit of payment for something to watch and amuse oneself with for a set time in the future.

"_I'll have you know, we do not intend to let him stay too long_." He warned the still-laughing entity.

Zalgo's eyes glowed with barely-contained mirth as he choked back his own laughter and replied, "_No, my dear, dear _friend_, I'm afraid you don't understand everything fully._" His many mouths opened in grins saying "I know something that you don't" tauntingly, "_That boy's return will make bigger waves than you could ever imagine._"

He stood up and the lone kitchen light began to flicker with an unnatural darkness. "_All I can say, Slenderman… is 'Good Luck'_."

The lamp flickered low and when it returned, nothing remained of the entity's presence. Save for a small key in Slender's hand, a decayed and rotten napkin he used to wipe his own saliva, and the faint smell of sulfur.

Slenderman sat back and tilted the key so the gold glinted in the light. He placed it in his pocket and silently mourned the loss of his cup before throwing away the shattered remains and sitting back down. The meeting was heavy on his mind, but one thought made him both amused and on alert.

"_Seven mouths and not one seems capable to tell the whole truth_."

* * *

The next morning dawned pretty early and Slenderman found several of his wards sitting around the table eagerly talking amongst themselves.

"Harry! If you get a broomstick, can I ride it? Please?" Sally begged. Harry nodded, causing her to squeal in anticipation.

"So, have you decided to logic your way out of this one?" Nick nudged Adrian in the ribs as the older boy rolled his eyes.

"At this point, I'm out of my league until I learn more. But I figure it's science. 'Science beyond the comprehension of current minds is magic'. We just need time." Adrian proposed. Eyeless Jack nodded quietly to him in agreement.

Slender projected a mental noise like clearing his throat.

"_Everybody, please, calm down._" Slender ordered as he sat at the head of the table. Everyone, even Jeff surprisingly, was awake and already wearing day clothes. He took note of everybody who wanted to come along.

Harry, Adrian, and Nikolaus were, naturally, going with. EJ was eager to test out some theories and learn more about magic in general. Toby, Sally, and BEN were hopping in their seats. Toby and BEN were most likely fantasizing about either dragons or dragon slaying, respectively, while Sally probably thought along the lines of unicorns or the Faye. Jeffery had gone to bed at a decent time to actually get up. While he didn't express it (or, rather, couldn't express it), the feat was a solid indication that he was interested or excited. Smile was at his feet as always.

"_Now, I want to tell you a little about what will happen._" The chatter died, "_I have agreed to meet a woman by the name of Minerva McGonagall at Soho Square Gardens in London, England. It's a tourist destination in the area, but not heavily crowded. We will arrive close to it and meet with her to discuss the Wizarding World, so please ask her questions. We need all of the information we can get._

"_Afterwards, I suspect we may be buying the supplies listed in Harry's letter. Be prepared for that as well. We may be entering a 'high magic' region._" He turned to BEN and Jeff, or rather, Smile specifically, "_When Harry becomes agitated, he releases a sort of magical energy field that I know you two, especially, are somewhat vulnerable to_."

BEN nodded, grin fading, while Smile whimpered under Jeff's chair. Slender pressed on, "_Which is why we have something we need you to have. Jack, if you will._" Eyeless Jack grinned and pulled out a small box from his lap. He unlatched the lid and revealed two small, red gemstone pendants.

"Okay, so we've been planning this for since a few months after Harry arrived. Using Harry's ability plus a small sample of a 'magical' stone, we were able to isolate and neutralize the effects of most ambient magic. These crystals," He gestured to the pendants, "were designed and grown specifically to provide a shield against this by emitting its own, tiny, frequency of 'magic' that cancels the ambient noise out without hurting yourselves. It's a prototype, but it seems to work in high and low magical environments, so it should be okay."

He handed BEN the pendant stone on a string. The gem was placed in the coil of a pewter dragon circling it and the possibly-not-mythological-anymore creature was providing the hook for the string. Definitely not girly, but still incorporating the red gem. BEN put it over his head and started fiddling with it, eagerly.

He handed the other pendant to Jeff who knelt down and started fixing it to Smile's dog collar. The gem was hidden in a simple dog tag design, but held the gem close to the collar instead of dangling.

"_Now that that is taken care of; I have arranged for the possibility that Adrian and Nikolaus can also attend._" The three friends looked between each other, Adrian giving a silent shrug at Harry's inquisitive glance while Nick just smiled eagerly. "_They will likely attend the same classes as you do and will be an alternative source of information as well as provide back up if you need it._"

Toby's head cocked to the side, "Uh, Slendy? How's that gonna work? Harry's 11 and Adrian's, like, 16."

"_You will see._" Slenderman promised, returning to the meeting, "_Now, in the event that Nikolaus, Adrian, or both cannot attend, there is a back-up plan for later. They will still be able to attend at Hogwarts, just not as directly._"

"How can they do that if they aren't students?" Harry asked.

"_That is actually part of a different surprise, the good kind this time,_" The entity assured Harry as he began to protest. The young ward was still a bit more wary of any more "surprises" being kept from him.

"_Now, we will probably have to exchange money… and…_" He was reluctant to continue, but reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a small, golden key. "_I was approached by Zalgo, last night_."

Gasps and a few growls were heard around the table. Jack was eye-socketing (or rather "eyeing" without eyes) the key with undisguised distrust.

"What did he want?" BEN hesitantly asked.

"_Nothing_." The wards and proxies looked up in sudden surprise before eyeing the key even more warily; like it was about to come alive and stab them with little, golden pincers. "_He has agreed to give us the contents of this vault without any strings attached. It appears he's simply amused by this whole situation and the Council's ignorance and wants to 'invest' in this entertainment before it's stopped prematurely._"

"Wait, the Council doesn't know all this?" Jeff asked, surprised.

Slender sighed, "_Yes. I felt it best if they did not know what we were doing at the current time. This is a completely covert operation._"

Toby, BEN, and Jeff glanced between each other before slowly singing and gathering speed, "Dun dun duhduh, dun dun duhduh dededahhhhh dededahhhh dededahhh dadah!"

Slender deadpanned, "_Yes, because a group of people singing 'Mission Impossible' is _entirely_ covert_." The trio stopped and flashed a grin before the entity continued, "_Back to Zalgo. We will use his resources, provided that they are legitimate and clean. I will not risk anything so soon and we need as much help as we can get, regardless of the questionable sources._"

The entity looked up at the clock and did a quick mental transition from East Coast time to the general time zone of Britain just shy of the Prime Meridian. "_We should be leaving soon. However, I think now is a perfect time for Nikolaus and Adrian to demonstrate phase I of the plan._"

The two nodded and jumped off of their seats and headed to the Parlor room. Nick walked to the space in front of the fireplace and started doing a bunch of stretches like he'd expect to jog a marathon soon. "_Now, EJ can explain this better than I, so…_"

Jack walked up to the side of Nick still doing stretches and addressed everyone. "We discovered that Nick can manipulate insects in his body, but what we also found out was that his body was… detachable, so to speak.

"Over the last few months, we've been working on a long-lasting, tangible glamour substitute to allow infiltration for extended periods of time where concentration might not be as easy to maintain, especially surrounded by students. Plus, we need them to be _physically_ changed, too, unlike standard glamours.

"Now, examining Nick, we found that his insects could be used to alter his very body tissue almost on a small scale using hive-minded insects like termites or ants. So, he will use his bugs to deconstruct, reconstruct, and re-glue his body coupled with a few glamour adjustments and, naturally, a bit of 'magic' as well." The audience was wide-eyed and turned to watch Nick anxiously prepping himself. Though, now his expression looked less like he would run a marathon and more like he was prepping for the world's most painful injection with a huge needle to boot.

"I can do this. *Hooo*. I can totally do this." He continued to encourage himself as nervous sweat started to break out. A multitude of tiny, black insects started crawling around his skin, but he didn't pay attention to them. Harry got a bad feeling and closed his eyes.

The audio was enough.

"I can do this. I can do this. Ow! I can do this! I can DO this! Oh God, I CAN'T DO THIS! Why? WHY?! AUUUUGH! MY CHEST! MY ARM! AUUUGH! Oh Christ, why!? WHY?! F*** F*** F*** F***********! AUGH! WHY ARE THERE SO MANY F***ING USELESS TUBES IN THE BODY?! AAAUUUUUUUGGGGHHH! Urk! *huff* *huff*."

The screaming subsided and Harry dared to open his eyes.

A significantly shorter, younger Nick stood shivering and twitching, limbs still slightly awkward as he held them out and adjusted to his sudden proportion change. He wiped some sweat off of his forehead and flashed a smile, awkwardly and tiredly putting up a victory sign.

Slender and the others were alternatively awestruck and, for those that toughed out what Harry didn't see, slightly nauseated. "_Er… I suppose it may have helped to have some form of pain killer, yes?_"

Nick's triumphant smile dissolved into a scowl. "Ya think?" He put his hands to his back and popped several vertebrae before sitting at the couch. Harry noted how he had to walk slightly awkwardly to accommodate his clothes suddenly not fitting his smaller frame. Slender discretely gave him a duffle bag that Nick accepted.

Adrian looked on impassively.

He walked up to the front of the room and closed his eyes. A quick, silent shift later and he was instantly an exact 11-year-old replica of his former self complete with fitting clothes.

Nick was sputtering indignantly.

"I- I- What?! Huh!" He had trouble getting out words and just stood open mouthed in rage as he gestured repeatedly to the now-younger Adrian standing there. "How come he gets to do that!?"

Adrian shrugs, "I'm dead. Properly dead. Or at least inhuman, so I don't really have a body in the first place."

The blonde-haired boy gave up on his conniptions and stomped up the stairs with the duffle in hand. He came back down in a dark green camouflage hoodie with dark jeans in his size, still grumbling angrily and (when Slender looked away) occasionally flipping the bird to Adrian.

"_Now, then, I trust we are ready, yes?_" the entity looked around at the wards. Smile and BEN had their pendants on. EJ, Toby, and the others had the items necessary for their glamours. Harry, Adrian, and Nick were comparing their new heights, which proved, to Harry's absolute despair, that the green-eyed wizard was _still_ the shortest of the three.

"_Then as of this moment; we are officially entering the Wizarding World_."

The door was firmly opened.

No turning back now.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall walked from the busy street to a quiet haven inside London. It was a small square of grass with the noteworthy fairytale cabin in its center behind a statue of Charles II. It was extraordinarily peaceful. Very few muggles were about and those that had come to visit were either tourists snapping a few pictures before moving on or laying down and enjoying the small patch of grass in urban muggle London.

She had masterfully transfigured her robes into suitable attire. Her robe became a simple gray women's coat with a long, beige dress skirt covering her legs. She took her hat and made it into a cozy shawl over her shoulders. Overall, she resembled an average older woman simply walking through London. People hardly gave her a second glance.

She carefully made her way to the old structure in the center, glancing around at every person milling around the gardens. She knew James Potter since his first year and if Albus was correct, then young Harry should look just like him but with Lily's eyes. She frowned, wondering how his new guardians had allowed him to behave. She had hoped that at the very least he did not become a Marauder like his father and godfa-

She shook her head lightly and resumed her focus on the small number of people around her. No one was much younger than a couple in their mid-teens canoodling under a tree. If this was Hogwarts, she'd have swooped in and stopped it at once, but she remembered muggles were much more… _lenient_ of such behavior in public.

She adjusted her shawl and glanced away. No one stood out to her. She did not see the faint flash of emerald green anywhere or a mop of black hair. Everyone was just milling around aimlessly or-

She stopped and noted a small group just arriving from the street.

It seemed like a rather large group of boys and girls headed by one adult with stark white hair who stood over 6 feet tall. The children around him ranged in age from a young girl perhaps around 7 or 8 to a few young men perhaps age 17 or 18 at most.

Her breath hitched as she saw three figures standing amidst the fray. One was a blonde-haired boy around 11 who was already at the stage where he was practically tripping over his own two feet as he moved anywhere. Another was a black-haired young boy also around 11, but with beetle-black eyes similar to Severus's; taking in everything around them and lacking most emotions.

Though, the one who stole the attention for her was a single, young boy with a painfully familiar mop of messy, black hair. She suppressed a sobbing chuckle as she recognized the "Potter Curse" of that one hair tuft that absolutely refused to be tamed sticking up in the back of his head. He turned his head and, just briefly, she saw a glint of green.

She began to raise her hand before realizing what she'd forgotten. She opened her handbag and pulled out a small red flag with gold embroidery. Anyone around her would think it was just an ornate hankerchief, but if she was right…

She cautiously held the hankerchief up just to chest-level and looked towards the white-haired adult. The man's black eyes made contact with the cloth in her hand and locked eyes with her before he nodded discretely. He murmured something to the children around him who all looked towards her as the group walked in her direction.

The tall man approached first, holding out his hand politely, "Professor McGonagall, I presume?" His voice was a rich baritone with a distinct American accent, though with traces of something she couldn't identify. He wore a simple, black suit and black tie that she was willing to bet was tailored to his surprising height. Despite his snow white hair, he could not have been much older than his mid 30s.

"Yes. I presume you are Mr. Solomon Lindermann, the man whom we've had correspondence with." She surmised, shaking the offered hand in muggle custom.

The man nodded, "You are correct. Though, for now, you may refer to me as Solomon or Mr. Lindermann, if you prefer."

She nodded. This man seemed polite enough. She glanced at the large group around him, "I had no idea you would be bringing this many people, Mr. Lindermann."

The man shrugged, "I apologize, but it is difficult to leave them at the home for too long."

"Home?" She asked curiously.

"They live under my roof. Technically, they are my wards and I provide for them, educate them, and keep them safe." Solomon explained. She mentally filed that away, but still felt rather sorry for the large number of children around her whose circumstances led them to become wards.

"Allow me to introduce them," He offered. He gestured to the first boy. His hand held a large black and white Husky dog on a lead.

"This is Jeffery Travis," He was a young man around 15 or 16 with mousy brown hair and a plain white hooded jacket ("hoodie" if she recalled the term correctly) and black jeans. He raised his hand in greeting, but his face was impassive and neutral.

"The dog's name is Smile," Said canine barked at the sound of its name before resuming its silence. She hadn't seen many dogs outside of muggle house visits, but she knew from the border collies that helped the farmhands back in her childhood town that they were rarely silent. This one just stared up at her with unusually blue eyes.

"Edward Jack MacNeacail. We call him EJ on account of another Jack that lives with us, but couldn't make it today." The young man had dark brown hair and was wearing dark sunglasses despite the relative cloudiness of the weather. He wore a black "hoodie" with blue jeans.

The young man took a step forward and stuck his hand out-… just a few inches shy of her direction. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am." He said. Minerva blinked in surprise as she noted the red and white cane looped around his wrist. It brought back memories of her childhood just before Hogwarts when men came back from fighting the War with horrendous scars across their eyes from muggle bomb shrapnel. They had to use long white canes to avoid bumping into things.

This young man was blind.

"Er, it's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. MacNeacail. If I may say, it's nice to meet a fellow Scottsman, even if you, yourself, are American." She shook his hand politely and he backed up again. She noted the youngest child of the entourage loop her arm around at his elbow prepared to guide him about, a young chestnut-haired girl in a carnation pink dress.

Solomon continued, "The young girl at Jack's arm is Sarah Williams, though she prefers Sally." The girl gave a cheery hello while still holding on to the older boy's arm.

"And this," Mr. Lindermann pointed to a young man around 15 or 16 with a white surgical mask over his mouth, "Is Tobias Richards, though he prefers just Toby." The young man waved enthusiastically before speaking rapidly.

"D-do dragons r-r-really exist?! D-do they really b-breathe f-fire?! How? I mean, do they have g-gasoline in their st-st-stomachs or some k-kind of lighter fluid excreted from a g-gland? Do Unicorns exist? A-are they the girly p-princess-y kind like in S-Sally's c-coloring books or the awesome k-kind that g-gutted people in the stomach like old st-stories? D-does-" Mr. Lindermann rolled his eyes and put a hand on Toby's shoulder, stopping the excited, loud, and fast-paced stream of questions.

"I'm sorry, but Toby has a tic disorder that flares whenever he's excited." Solomon explained.

She smiled back at the adult understandingly. Many siblings to muggleborns, both younger and older, behaved rather energetically when they first ask questions. Additionally, she'd worked with Quirrell long enough to understand his heavy stutter. "Mr. Richards, I believe for a majority of your questions; Dragons do exist, they do breathe fire, I'm not sure how but I'll ask our Care of Magical Creatures Professor later, and Unicorns do prefer females, but are hardly above, as you say, 'gutting people in the stomach'." She answered each flawlessly with the practice of handling thousands of instances just like it.

Solomon raised an impressed eyebrow as Toby grinned ear-to-ear underneath the surgical mask. The tall man moved on, gesturing to the youngest boy, perhaps a year or so below Hogwarts age. "This is Benjamin Downing. He prefers Ben." The boy was blonde, but it messily sticking out from underneath a green knit cap. Under a gray jacket was a light green shirt with a set of three gold triangles forming a larger triangle with a "blank" in the center. She vaguely recalled another muggleborn with a poster or similar with the same image from a muggle "video game", as they called it.

"And, of course, the three we had discussed as students," He finally gestured behind him to the three Hogwarts-aged boys shuffling behind him. He gestured to the sandy blonde boy in a messy green-and-brown jacket and introduced him as Nikolaus Brahms. The black-haired, black-eyed boy who reminded her somewhat of Severus was named Adrian Thresher. And finally-

"And last, but not least-" Mr. Lindermann gestured to the final boy of the trio.

"Harry Potter?" She whispered, seeing him up close for the first time. It really was painful in a bittersweet way. He looked almost exactly like James when he first walked through the doors of Hogwarts, but his eyes shone with Lily's intelligence. Both of their most noteworthy features rolled into one boy who also marked their legacy.

She hadn't noticed the quiet exchange of glances between the wards. The adult man cleared his throat, "Er, yes, Harry Potter."

McGonagall started as she realized she was still looking at Harry, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry… you see, I taught Mr. Potter's parents. His birth parents, Lily and James. I was actually one of their visitors before they went into hiding, so this is the first time I've seen him since he was a babe." She smiled at the boy, "You look just like your father, but you have your mother's eyes."

"Hiding, Professor?" Mr. Lindermann asked, brows knitted in concern.

"Yes, from You-Know-Who." She glanced around at the confused looks from the group and sighed, "I'll explain it more when we find somewhere more private to talk." She used her eyes to gesture around at the people milling around the gardens.

"I see." He mumbled, glancing around. He turned back to her cheerfully, "Would you please escort us to a more private location, Professor?"

"Of course."

She led the group out of the small gardens and towards Greek Street. From there, it was a short walk to Charing Cross Road.

She had walked down this way before from time to time, but it was always still remarkable to see the hustle and bustle that muggle London offered. Many shops all crammed one after another after another with muggles walking purposefully in a seemingly chaotic place.

She stuck with the path she knew straight from Soho Square to the Leaky Cauldron, just a few minutes of walking.

Sally, meanwhile, was speaking excitedly to Mr. Lindermann, "Are we going to see Buckhingham Palace? Where the Queen lives! Oh, can we hear Big Ben ringing from here? What about that enormous Ferris Wheel! Let's ride that afterwards!" She was hopping in place, but kept hold of Mr. MacNeacail's arm, preventing him from bumping into the occasional signpost or the curb of the street. Despite it, he still tapped his cane in front of him, the sound almost drowned out in muggle London noise.

"It's called the London Eye, Sally, but let's focus on this meeting first." Solomon calmed her ramblings, but she still skipped around eagerly looking around at the large city. "Forgive my wards, Professor, they can be rather excitable at the most normal occasion, let alone now. Most haven't been out of the United States terribly often."

"It's no trouble," She assured him, "I've dealt with quite the number of troublemakers over the years, Mr. Potter, as in your father, certainly qualifies as the one who gave a majority of my gray hairs." She spoke to Harry.

Harry snickered quietly, "I'm sure LJ would've loved to meet him."

"I'm sorry?"

"LJ is the other Jack I spoke about," Solomon explained, "His name is Landon Jack Giullare, but we refer to him as LJ for convenience. He's a resident prankster to explain Harry's statement. Unfortunately, he had a pressing appointment for the next week and was unable to make today."

They continued down the long, winding road. Minerva would occasionally point out some landmarks to help the keep from getting lost and even pointing out some restaurants she and a muggleborn friend from her Hogwarts days would visit from time to time before the Wizarding war.

They approached the Leaky Cauldron. As usual, muggles were passing by it, not caring one whit that there was an entire space between the two clothing shops completely missing in their trek. To be honest, she noted more and more muggles seemed preoccupied with those curious black devices that were apparently much more advanced versions of the simple telephone from her youth.

She turned around to face the large group, "Now, we are approaching the entrance to a place called Diagon Alley. The entryway is a pub known as-"

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Jeffery Travis asked, mouth quirked in a grin.

Minerva was flustered, "Wh- I, well, yes. How did you…?"

He pointed directly towards the large sign outside of the pub. "It's the only place with a picture of a witch and cauldron on the outside. It's also the only building here that sticks out like a sore thumb."

Those around him nodded in agreement or shrugged as if it was rather obvious. McGonagall silently opened and closed her mouth before simply nodding. The Leaky Cauldron was rather conspicuous for its Victorian Pub appearance in comparison to the much more modern shops around it. It also didn't have the cleanliness standards of modern muggle shops, so it had grime and dirt still clinging to the outside.

Though the simple fact that they _saw_ it astonished her. The muggle-repelling charms were strong enough to keep even muggleborn parents who are actively looking for the building away. These people, who _claim_ to be muggles, saw it without trying. Curious.

"A-as I was saying, the entrance to Diagon Alley is the Leaky Cauldron pub. I've reserved a room for us to talk and I've cleared my entire afternoon schedule, so I have no pressing issues to cause concern. Please walk in and just wait for me, I need to ask your guardian something very quickly."

The large group began filing through the doorway as she approached Solomon, who was raising an eyebrow in silent questioning, "Mr. Lindermann, I'm rather flustered by this game you're playing."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your children! They're obviously magical as well."

The older man shook his head, "No, I'm afraid only Adrian, Nikolaus, and Harry have shown signs of any form of proper magic. If I may ask, what prompted this?"

Minerva hesitated. His reaction was genuine, but it didn't answer the questions. "The Leaky Cauldron is protected by several muggle-repelling charms. The _very_ best that can be attained. As such, muggles, as we call nonmagicals, are unable to physically perceive the building, much less point it out."

The tall man looked around and nodded, "I had wondered why no one seemed to notice the pub, especially given its condition and rather conspicuous appearance."

"So you can see my confusion?" She pressed, "You claimed you had knowledge of the magical world, but only presented the three as students. I am curious why you neglected to mention such information earlier."

"Professor," he interjected firmly, "I can assure you, I have no idea if the other children are magical or not. They have presented no signs of the "accidental magic" phenomenon and I haven't encountered magic in one of my wards prior to Harry Potter's arrival. Adrian and Nikolaus joined us within the last year, so I recognized several signs of magic. I can confidently say that none of my other wards have demonstrated the same."

McGonagall was at a loss for words. He seemed absolutely sure, but it didn't explain how every one of his wards was capable of breaking the muggle repelling charms. Still, she sighed in a small amount of shame for accusing him in the first place, "I apologize, Mr. Lindermann. It's just rather surprising, is all. You're sure they are not witch or wizard?"

"Positive." He said absolutely. She schooled her features, but maintained some suspicions or distrust at this point. Either he was lying, which his body language didn't suggest, or _somehow_ muggles could see the Cauldron… perhaps a faulty ward of some sort was throwing off the others?

The Transfiguration professor nodded once in acceptance and walked with him into the pub, his wards were already walking around to explore the pub entryway, but stayed together as a group against the curious eyes of the patrons there. Minerva especially watched a group of creatures in the dimly-lit corner consisting of a hag, a vampire, and a shabby warlock eyeing the younger wards.

She walked past to the bar as Solomon collected the children together. The bar was empty and she called out. "Tom?"

A man came out from the kitchen door, holding a new bottle of something-or-another and setting it on the shelf. He gave a gap-toothed grin at the aged woman, "Ah, Professor McGonagall, I see. Off ter the Alley, I s'pose?"

"No, Tom, I reserved a private room earlier yesterday."

He nodded, "Ah, yeah, jus' through the back." He led them towards the Inn section of the pub before turning at the hallway of rooms and showing them to a door with an iron 3 pegged to it. "Ah, 'ere we are; Private Room 3. Privacy charms are active as soon as the door closes. If ya want, there are menus inside. Just give a tap and we'll bring it out in a few minutes."

He shimmied past the large group lined down the narrow hallway and returned to the bar. They filed into the spacious room with a table and chairs set up for all of them.

Mr. Lindermann took a seat at the head of the table and Minerva took the seat on his right hand side. The wards began taking other seats at random, but still managed to get Harry, Adrian, and Nikolaus on Solomon's other side just across from her. The girl, Sally, took the seat directly next to her and had taken out one of the menus to peruse.

"Mr. Lindermann, I feel as though we may be here for some time. Feel free to order from the menu, I have a tab here supplemented by Hogwarts for such occasions. You see, the pub doesn't take muggle currency, I'm afraid." She assured them.

The guardian nodded appreciatively, "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I'm afraid we haven't eaten yet, so I believe we will take your offer."

She showed them how to place the order on the magical menu which sent a notification directly to the kitchen of what was ordered, where, and to whom. Within minutes, they had various plates in front of them, a few already tucking in.

"Mmm! What is this?" Sally asked, wiping froth from her lip as she set down a mug of amber drink

"It's a Wizarding drink called butterbeer. It's non-alcoholic." She informed Mr. Lindermann. The older man nodded and returned to his chamomile.

"You know, I've traveled many places and it seems that America can never compare to British teas. Particularly a good blend of chamomile." He said, enjoying the cup.

"Well, I think now is a good time to begin a basic introduction to Hogwarts, don't you?" She set down her cup of gillywater and saw the multitude of eyes waiting.

She began with a basic introduction to magic, itself. Fairly standard for muggleborn or muggle-raised children and their families. She transfigured a napkin into a small butterfly which fluttered about the room a bit before turning back to its paper form on the table. Her younger audience was awestruck and clapped at the end. Mr. Lindermann was much more composed, she noted, but clapped politely with the rest.

She talked about the Leaky Cauldron and explained the term "muggle" and the cause of the schism between the magical world and human world spanning back to the Dark Age's Witch Trials. She explained somewhat about Diagon Alley and mentioned a few offshoots to it, including Knocturne Alley with a heavy warning to Solomon about the dangers it held.

Then, she began to talk in detail about Hogwarts, itself. She explained the basics of how the students arrived by train on September first. Then, she explained the four houses and their respective traits and heads. Solomon was curious about her triple-duty job as Gryffindor Head, Transfigurations Professor, and Deputy Headmistress, but she assured him she had balanced the positions over the last thirty years very well.

She explained the core classes to be taken by first years to fifth year OWLS; Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and History of Magic. She gave a general overview of what each course entailed along with a quick mention of each professor's name to their respective course.

After the core courses, she talked about the electives offered through Hogwarts for third years and above; Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Divination, and so forth.

Mr. Lindermann would occasionally ask questions regarding tuition costs, health care, and muggle courses. She assured him that Madame Pomfrey, their live-in nurse, was quite capable, though she had to inform him that muggle courses such as Science or Mathematics were not offered. Mr. Travis interrupted with a pseudo-whispered 'Lucky' towards the three.

She smiled and informed them that Hogwarts is, by no means, slacking in its tuition and while they didn't offer most muggle courses, they were rigorous in their curriculum. Mr. Brahms seemed intimidated while Mr. Thresher seemed almost eager. She could see the dark-haired boy in Ravenclaw and decided to inform Filius about the possibility when she returned.

At the end of her discussion of Hogwarts, she opened the floor to general questions and found herself bombarded with a multitude of questions she'd heard before including fairytale creatures' existences and behaviors, questions on Merlin and Camelot, and questions about potions' effects and spells. She answered them as easily as they came at an almost non-stop pace from the curious foster children at the table. She was more than used to excited or interested parents and siblings asking multitudes of questions in her visits.

She noted Harry was rather quiet through the entire ordeal, preferring to munch quietly on the small plate of chips in front of him with ketchup, of all things. She knew it was an American habit to use the tangy red sauce, but still quirked her mouth at the thought. As questions started tapering off, she asked the three directly if they had any pressing questions about Hogwarts or the Wizarding World in general.

Harry spoke for the first time, "What did you mean when you said my parents were hiding?"

Her heart sank as she was reminded of the earlier promise outside of the pub. She took a sip of her gillywater to clear the lump in her throat before answering, "About 20 years ago, a Dark Wizard terrorized Britain and quite a few of the neighboring countries. We called him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rather than his title due to a belief that he appeared if you said it."

She licked her lips and screwed her courage, "His name was V-Voldemort… but again I strongly discourage you to use that name. People react rather badly to it. Professor Dumbledore is the only person he ever feared and has no issues with saying it freely, but it still makes people rather uncomfortable."

The wards and their guardian nodded curiously, but didn't interrupt. She continued, "Now, at the height of his power, it was discovered that he had come to target the Potter Family. It's not exactly known why, but generally it was believed to have been caused by your mother and father's open rejection of his agenda."

"If I may interrupt you, Professor, what exactly was this man's… agenda?" Solomon spoke.

She sighed sadly, "In our society, there are those who have been born into a family consisting only of magicals traced back at least five generations. They call themselves 'Purebloods' and hold the impression that because they have less nonmagical blood to themselves, they are superior magically or by status. I can assure you neither are true, but it is a belief held by those who followed You-Know-Who.

"Due to this, they look down upon those born to muggle, or nonmagical, parents which we call muggleborns as well as those with nonmagical ancestry within the five generations which they call halfbloods, regardless what percentage of that ancestry is nonmagical. In the eyes of purebloods following You-Know-Who's reign of terror, they believed that muggleborns and halfbloods were unworthy of magic and sought to control them or eradicate them.

"V-Voldemort sought to use this way of thinking to his advantage and built a power structure where he slowly began to take the Wizarding World by storm. Those were dark times. Many died…" She trailed off, glassy-eyed, before shaking herself from memories and continuing.

"Now, regarding Mr. Potter's family, You-Know-Who targeted them for an unknown reason and under Professor Dumbledore's suggestion, they went into hiding, taking Harry with them.

"On October 31st, almost 10 years ago, he tracked them down and killed Lily and James. However, he went to Harry and _tried_ to kill him. He cast a curse called the Killing Curse which, true to its name, kills the victim outright upon contact."

The wards shuffled uneasily and Harry swallowed heavily, "Now, Mr. Potter not only survived the curse, but also _reflected_ it back at You-Know-Who, destroying him and ending his reign. It was a very joyous time as the Death Eaters, the name of his group of followers, slowly disbanded or were arrested without his command.

"Because of this, many in the Wizarding World call Harry 'The Boy Who Lived' referring to how he survived the curse. Not one person in all of history has ever survived a direct hit to the killing curse. All Mr. Potter has from that curse is his famous scar." Harry subconsciously reached up towards his bangs to the spot where the lightning-shaped scar sat on his forehead.

Minerva frowned, "I should warn you now, people still consider Mr. Potter a hero, so expect some unusual or enthusiastic behavior if your identity is determined."

"Thank you, Ms. McGonagall, we will keep that in mind." Solomon promised solemnly. He picked up his tea and sipped it in thought. "May I ask what happened next?"

She nodded, "Of course. After the defeat of V-Voldemort, Harry was taken from the remains of the house. Professor Dumbledore arranged for him to remain with his only remaining blood relatives, the Dursley family."

She noted several of the wards tensed angrily at the name and Harry paled drastically, "The Headmaster assured me that Blood Wards established by your mother would protect you from You-Know-Who's followers who survived the fall."

She hesitated, "I- At first, I objected to it. You see, I watched the family for a few hours prior to the Professor leaving you there, but he was firm in placing you with those muggles. I intended to check up on Mr. Potter, but Professor Dumbledore was adamant that no one contact him and risk revealing his location."

The group was silent, some glaring at her rather accusatorily, others glancing towards Harry who was focusing on his mug of butterbeer, quietly.

Mr. Lindermann cleared his throat, "Professor McGonagall, I believe we would appreciate some privacy to discuss the next steps. Would you please step out for a moment?"

"Certainly," She replied, gathering herself up and her gillywater and walking out of the room. She closed the door behind her and nervously walked to the main pub area, sipping her drink. The entire fate of the Wizarding World rested on Mr. Potter staying at Hogwarts, or so the Headmaster had said.

Now, she wondered if she'd said too much. Mr. Potter and his family seemed perturbed by the story, but she felt it was his right to know such information rather than keep him in the dark. Albus probably wouldn't have agreed, but she had to make the best judgment calls here.

She only hoped she made the correct choice.

* * *

When the door closed, Slenderman sensed the privacy wards go back up, but did not drop his glamour as a safety precaution. Seeing that he was still maintaining appearances, the wards kept their glamours as well.

"Now, then, what do we think?"

Jack spoke first, "I'm worried about Harry being in this place if most are idolizing him and the rest are trying to assassinate him. Then take into account reporters, politicians, celebrities (assuming they have them) all probably wanting to get on Harry's good side. More-so if people think he's been missing for so long. It sounds to me like these people were absolutely desperate for a hero when this guy died, so they invented 'Harry the Boy Who Lived' as a miracle child instead of two more martyred parents."

The entity nodded, all were good points. Adrian spoke next, "We haven't heard of any other institutions that teach magic. While I _highly_ doubt this is the only school in the world catering to an entire society of people, we may not get another shot to learn magic."

"Plus, let's not forget the whole 'society of purebloods' out for our heads, right?" Nick commented.

"Well, all of this boils down to Harry, right? It was his invitation first. It's his parents' school. It's him that has to deal with all of this crap." Jeff asked through a half-full mouth of shepard's pie, "Why not ask him?"

They turned to the green-eyed boy who finally looked up from his placemat. "I-I'm not sure how to react to this all. Just yesterday, magic was a myth and now I'm being told I'm a wizard."

"We're with you on that one, Harry." Nick added, smirking and gesturing his head to Adrian as well.

Harry smiled weakly, "But, now on top of that, I'm famous for something I have no idea what happened. People will expect things of me. But, also, I don't want to lose out on this opportunity to learn proper magic."

Slenderman nodded thoughtfully, "So, Harry, what will it be?"

Harry was silent in thought.

He took a breath to respond.

* * *

Minerva had finished her gillywater when she was brought out of her nervous thoughts by a bright, high voice next to her. Looking over, she saw Mr. Lindermann's ward, Sally, staring up at her.

"Ms. McGonagall? You can come back to the room, please."

She followed the girl back to Private Room 3 and opened it to find a solemn group around the table. Anxiety mounted as she resumed her spot across from Harry and beside his guardian.

"Professor McGonagall," Mr. Lindermann began, "We have considered everything and given what we've heard and what we know… well…"

He looked to Harry who nodded firmly and spoke.

"We'd like to attend Hogwarts."

Minerva clapped her hands together with a small smile. "An excellent choice, Misters Potter, Thresher, and Brahms. And you, as well, Mr. Lindermann."

He waved his hand dismissively, "No, no, I assure you the final decision was all theirs."

She nodded briefly before focusing on the three soon-to-be-students, "Now, I have cleared my schedule and it's only," She briefly glanced at a small pocketwatch, "12:40, so if you would prefer, I could guide you and your party through Diagon Alley and show you how to access it through the Cauldron entrance. Perhaps even assist you in the school purchases as we have some time."

Solomon gave a faint smile, "That sounds very helpful. Thank you again, Professor, for taking this much time from your schedule to accommodate us." She merely nodded as they hastily finished their meals and stood from the table.

They walked out of the Private Rooms area and she confirmed with Tom that the payments to go to the Hogwarts tab before escorting them through the back area to the pub into a small courtyard with some barrels and crates pushed to the side. She approached the dustbin against a brick wall and turned to ensure everyone in the large party was accommodated with a view.

She showed them the proper bricks to tap and they watched as the brick wall simply melted to the side, revealing, in all of its splendor:

"Welcome, to Diagon Alley!"

* * *

**AN: Diagon Alley was apparently inspired by Cecil Court in London, so I based the location of the entrance around there as well with Soho Gardens being one of the more notable locations on Google Maps. The alternative was to try Queen Victoria's Memorial (very well known), but I felt that was a bit of a far walk to Charing Cross.**

* * *

**So, I'm not a fan of stories that use too many OCs suddenly introduced in one chapter (or rather, introduced 20-some-odd chapters into a story rather than at the exposition). It throws things through a loop and usually I'm left with a sense of "Wait, who was she? What did he look like? When did he get that metal arm?"**

**I kept most of the names for convenience's sake and, plus, they're common enough names.**

**However, I know it's still hard to keep track, so here's a rundown of everyone's aliases.**

**+Nick, Adrian, and Harry all keep their given names (except Nick, I added an "s" because I liked Brahms' music [and it doesn't autocorrect])  
**

**+Slendermann: Solomon Lindermann (S. Lindermann. Get it? That was the letter joke last chapter)**

**+Sally Williams: Sarah "Sally" Williams (a fairly common name on its own)**

**+"Eyeless" Jack Nichols: Edward Jack MacNeacail (Keeping "EJ" and the surname MacNeacail is Nichols' Scottish original form)**

**+Jeff Woods: Jeff Travis (after the serial killer who allegedly had around a 20 body count)**

**+Smile: Smile (It's a dog… It doesn't need an alias)**

**+BEN: Ben Downing (established earlier)**

**+Toby Rogers: Toby Richards (Close enough to his real name in case of a slip-up or a stutter)**

**+Laughing Jack: Landon Jack Giullare ("Giullare" (Jew-Lar-Ray) meaning "Jester" in Italian. Rolled "r" and emphasized "lar" sound.)**

**There are others who will appear eventually with aliases, but for now, these are the ones to pay attention to.**

**Thank you for reading and enjoying my story!**

**Sincerely,**

**Crow**


	23. Diagon Alley

**AN: I had to put a date to this. Pardon irregularities, but this is primarily an alternate universe of our own, so if an internet, movie, or pop culture reference is out of place, I'm sorry. Harry Potter was born in 1998. He arrived with the Pastas in 2005. This chapter, the beginning of Hogwarts, is taking place 2009.**

**I also put down chapter titles. I hope you enjoy some of them!**

**I own nothing**

**-Crow**

* * *

The walls melted away and the wards of Slenderman were awestruck at the bustling activity in Diagon Alley. It was colorful, like a Renaissance Fair market with shops lining the walls and some stands and wagons selling wares in the narrow streets. The street itself was crooked, cobbled, and a bit grimy, but the sunlight from above let in plenty of light, giving it a cheery personality instead of a dark and dank medieval alleyway.

The alley stretched into the distance, seemingly impossible given the surrounding area of London. A large, white marble building at the end dominated the Alley, with crooked pillars holding up a proud, grand appearance.

The shops and structures above them teetered seemingly precariously above the streams of people, but still managed to hold up with likely magically-enhanced supports. Chimneys crookedly towered above the homes and wafted out colorful smoke and belched the occasional vibrant green or violent orange shower of sparks. Windows held bowed-out glass or crooked panes in odd shapes.

People in cloaks and large-brimmed hats milled around, carrying bags or having objects simply floating around them. Men and women at the wagon stands were bargaining over odd flowers and plants and haggling with gold, silver, and occasionally bronze coins. Children were running around, enthusing over models in the windows of shops. Teenagers were talking animatedly, bundles of books or supplies in their hands. Often, the word "Hogwarts" drifted over from conversation.

Professor McGonagall removed her shawl and took out her wand. With a wave, the shawl changed into a dark green hat with a feather tucked into it. She turned the wand towards herself and her muggle clothes transfigured into matching dark green robes, instantly. She explained to them that it was advanced Transfiguration at their impressed look.

She led them down the narrow way, their group cutting through rather easily. She pointed out a few helpful shops such as Flourish and Blotts' Book Store, the Magical Menagerie, Slug and Jiggers Apothecary (Nikolaus grinned at the name), and so on. Deeper into the alleyway, they noticed some stacks of cages holding a large variety of animals from salamanders with lava-like cracks in their skin to owls perched in cages occasionally hooting in the din.

Sally excitedly maintained appearances and described the scene to EJ who had collapsed his cane for convenience in the crowded alleyway and pretended to rely on her at his elbow. He would nod appropriately and even ask some questions or tilt his head towards the occasional odd sound and ask for her to describe what that was.

Minerva didn't catch it over the din, but Jeff leaned over to Toby and whispered, "This alley is a lot better than the alleys I stalk around in."

Toby nodded in agreement. "Yeah, if all alleys were this nice, I'd probably stick around longer to do something besides poke dead rats with a stick." Jeff scrunched his nose in questioning disgust. Toby shrugged and stated, "It's fun." They kept moving.

Eventually, they came to a stop to an alcove on the side of the large, white building at the end of the alley. Minerva took out a copy of the student shopping list and, with a spell, copied several more, handing one each to Harry, Adrian, and Nick as well as one to Slender and the rest were shared between the others to read.

"Huh? First years can't bring brooms?" Sally commented, "The floors must be really dirty in their dorms, then."

McGonagall gave a rare chuckle, "No, Ms. Williams, that refers to flying broomsticks. We don't allow personal broomsticks until second year."

Sally was in awe at the thought of a real flying broomstick while Slender turned to McGonagall, smirking, "So that is to say that the first year dorms are clean?"

She returned a small mouth twitch in humor, "I never said that." She addressed the entire group, her professional air returning, "Now, as you can see, the list is rather extensive. However, the building behind me is Gringotts Bank. There, we can exchange muggle currency for Wizarding currency necessary to purchase your supplies. Additionally, we can access Mr. Potter's personal vault from his parents.

"Hogwarts can offer loans and tuition payment plans if you are unable to do so." She added.

Mr. Lindermann shook his head, "No, Professor, I am confident we could fully pay for all three tuitions, even without Harry's inheritance."

The Transfiguration Professor nodded, before resuming, "Now, Wizarding currency exists in only three forms. There is the bronze knut, the smallest coin. The conversion is £0.01 to one knut. The second form is the silver sickle. The conversion is £0.29 to one sickle. There are 29 knuts to one sickle. Then, there is the largest coin, the gold galleon. The conversion is £4.93 to a galleon. There are 17 sickles to one galleon.

"Ugh, that's confusing." Jeff commented, irritably.

EJ snickered, "Not really, ignoring the conversion factors, it's all just prime numbers. 17 and 29."

Minerva nodded, "Yes, essentially so long that you remember those two conversions, you should be fine. Now, please follow me."

She walked ahead of the group through the great doors. They noticed as they passed that the two figures standing guard on either side weren't statues as they'd initially believed, but actually small creatures in armor standing stock still at the entrance, intimidating sharp weapons at the side. Jeff couldn't help but somewhat enviously eye the axe-spear until the creature's eyes shifted to focus on him.

They entered a large atrium. A set of grand, crystal chandeliers cast a pale, yellow light over the two counters on either side. Wizards and Witches waited in lines to speak with certain tellers or were being led towards the doors in the back leading down to the vaults. Sally was awestruck and almost forgot to describe the scene to EJ who was discretely looking around behind his disguise.

Sally got to describing the tellers when she paused, "Um, Ms. McGonagall?," the older woman turned to her, "W-what are the people at the booths?"

A passing creature sniffed indignantly, but carried on, ignoring Sally's sad gasp at being overheard and believing she hurt his feelings. Minerva calmly explained, "They're goblins, Ms. Williams. They're very shrewd, but clever and especially adept at handling money and investments."

She walked up to an open teller, marking some ledgers out in front of him. She cleared her throat after a moment and the goblin grunted in mild annoyance before looking up and taking in the large group before him with calculating eyes. She spoke authoritatively, "I am here concerning Mr. Potter's withdrawal and the tuition payments of two new muggleborn Hogwarts students."

The goblin's eyes widened slightly at the name Potter and his eyes grazed over his forehead before focusing on the white-haired adult towering above them. "I take it, _you_, sir, are Mr. Potter's guardian?"

"Indeed."

The goblin's eyes turned steely as he took in the figure before he stood to get up, "I need to speak to my superiors. I'll return momentarily." He quickly hopped off of the heightened chair and hurried through a door behind the teller booths.

Slender watched the figure go, suspicion first and foremost in his mind. He could tell he was emitting a slight amount of Sigma from the stress, but took a quiet, calming breath to prevent any mishaps or sudden medical emergencies in the immediate vicinity. From what he could tell, only the nearest Goblin put a quick finger to the side of his eye socket to put pressure on a headache that could very well have been caused by the frustrating paperwork in front of him.

"Why, 'ello, Pr'fessor McGonagall." Boomed a cheery voice behind them. Minerva turned and smiled at perhaps the largest man any of them had seen (that still resembled something human). "Fancy meetin' you here."

"Hello, Hagrid." She replied calmly.

"See yer givin' a new family a tour, eh? Great school, Hogwarts. No place better." He said firmly. Slender quietly nodded, but didn't contradict nor support his opinion.

"I suppose you should see the next teller. Ours just left for something." The disguised entity informed the large man.

"Oh, er, not here for withdrawals. Er, well, I am, but… can't say… Hogwarts business…" He stumbled before clearing his throat awkwardly. Slender raised an eyebrow in mild humor at his horrible subtlety, but also in suspicion regarding the unknown 'Hogwarts business' that coincided with their visit today.

The giant's eyes darted over the large group of children around them before double-taking Harry. "Is tha'…?"

McGonagall's eyes widened and she started to stammer out something, but it was lost to Hagrid's next words, "Harry Potter?! I ain't seen ya since you were a baby! Oh, great ter see ya 'ere. It really is."

"Hagrid," the aged woman said tersely, cutting off any further exclamations. "Don't you have that errand to run?"

Hagrid's eyes widened and nodded. Before he left, he gave a quick wave goodbye to Harry and hurried off to the next open teller. Minerva sighed as the boisterous, but well-meaning half-giant went off to do his equally indiscrete 'Hogwarts business', but looking around the damage had been done.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Harry Potter!"

"Great Scott! It is!"

"Harry?!"

The foreign group found themselves being slowly pressed inward by an increasing wave of people trying to get closer to Harry, who had taken shelter behind Slender.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

The crowd stilled as the loud, but squeaky voice of the goblin was accompanied by the loud smash of steel against the stonework as several armed goblin guards filed into the area in a march. The teller they'd been speaking to approached as the crowd dispersed, clearly still eager to be noticed by the Boy-Who-Lived, but still with enough self-preservation to not go against the creatures wielding razor-sharp weapons not five feet from them.

"I've been asked to bring you and yours to the back rooms to discuss some irregularities with your situation." The group, including the Transfiguration Professor started, but the goblin held his hand up, "I'm sorry, Ms. McGonagall, but I'm afraid for client confidentiality, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to be in attendance."

McGonagall began sputtering nervously about leaving _muggles_ with _goblins_. They'd have their heads on spikes before the papers were even brought out! However, the tall guardian raised a hand to stop her confused rambling, "Professor, I know you mean well, however, trust that we will be fine. I'm confident we can handle whatever may come next."

She couldn't argue (certainly not with a small platoon of several, armed goblins surrounding her) and watched the group, including the Wizarding World's savior, be brought behind the doors to one of the private conference rooms.

The doors closed behind them as they took a seat around a large, conference table headed by a rather sinister-looking throne. The goblin escorts eyed the group that had just entered. Most seasoned wizards would be anxious to sit in their positions, but the group here, consisting of mostly _children_, was completely calm.

The teller stood by a seat near the disguised guardian and motioned for the guards and others to leave. Once they were gone, he looked at the clock before shuffling some papers in front of him. Eventually, three more goblins came through a different entrance carrying stacks of documents and speaking quickly with the teller before sitting down.

"May we ask what prompted this?" Slender initiated. The goblin nodded and took a seat by the other three.

The teller goblin began, "Now, for introductions, my name is Teller Goldhammer. Those who are with me are the Potter Account Manager Snagrock, Magic Analyst Ironshard, and Contract Specialist Stoneskull." Each of them bobbed their heads to their introduction. "We're here to discuss some irregularities with Mr. Potter's accounts, or rather, some peculiarities."

"I see. Well, I stand as Mr. Potter's guardian. My name is Solomon Lindermann-" The entity began.

"Do not lie to us," Snagrock snarled, "We can tell through the enchantments of the room when someone is lying and your name is _false_!"

The wards sat stunned and wide-eyed as Slender was stone-faced as ever despite being called out. Eventually, after a terse silence, he spoke, "I presume there is total client confidentiality here?"

The goblins snarled, "Yes, of course. We cannot disclose anything that occurred here to anyone besides the leader of the Goblin Nation. To do otherwise is a death sentence. Even then, we goblins honor our patron's privacy. And honor is paramount to any warrior. Everything said here is entirely confidential. Additionally, goblins are immune to Wizarding methods of interrogation including legilimancy, a form of 'mind reading' if you will, and veritaserum, a potent truth serum."

Slenderman nodded slowly, "Then in that case, Solomon Lindermann is my _alias_ name. My real name is inconsequential as I'm sure your enchantments can detect the phrase: 'I am the guardian and caretaker of Mr. Harry James Potter, age 11, British Citizen by birth and Hogwarts Student this Fall. This is binding legally and legitimately.' Am I correct?"

The Magic Analyst, Ironshard, raised his eyes towards the ceiling as if listening for some faint sound. Eventually, he begrudgingly nodded, "It seems you are speaking the truth on all accounts. Regardless, it is standard procedure that we have a name associated with the guardian."

"Is it strictly necessary?"

The goblin's eyes narrowed and turned to Stoneskull, who steepled his fingers, "As it turns out, each and every one of the contracts regarding Mr. Potter, his accounts, and your guardianship is absolute and unquestionable, but there is no indication of who you are or where he's been."

"Then, if possible, I'd prefer to keep it that way." Slender said calmly, but the underlying challenge was thickly spread. The goblins were silent as they stared at the calm entity before simply taking out several folders.

"Well, the irregularity was primarily your guardianship, but seeing as you refuse to give anything other than your alias, we will note that for future documentation if that is acceptable." Slender nodded.

Snagrock's snarl was primarily unchanged, "I will be frank with you, 'Mr. Lindermann'. I do not trust you in the slightest. You have no name, no identity, no location, and yet you somehow are still able to befuddle an entire magical bureaucracy with apparently minimal effort. That said, you also hold the last remaining heir to the accounts my clan and I have managed for centuries. As you can imagine, I find it rather unnerving and concerning."

"And I can accept that. However, again refer to your own enchantments: 'I have no ill intentions towards Harry James Potter. I only try to do my best to ensure his safe upbringing and care as with all of my wards.'"

The goblin turned towards Ironshard, who merely nodded. The account manager goblin huffed and sat back. "Very well, Mr. Lindermann. If that is the case, then we will proceed as normal."

A folder was passed to the entity who opened it and, with the training of years of report analysis, gleaned the documents in record time. The goblins were stunned as he flipped to a specific page and spoke, "I notice there are notifications of several different vaults, only one of which has a direct inheritance from Lily and James Potter. The other is, evidently, already owned by Harry Potter."

Snagrock nodded, "The inherited vault to Mr. Potter from his biological parents was their own separate and private account." He continued at Slender's questioning (glamour) face, "Charlus Potter, Mr. Potter's paternal grandfather, cut James Potter off from the main family vaults shortly after Mr. James Potter's graduation from Hogwarts and shortly before Charlus Potter's own death.

"Charlus gave his son roughly 3 million galleons apart from the main vault to sustain his son and his daughter-in-law and, at the time, unborn grandson. Now, 3 million galleons is certainly nothing to scoff at, but was very minimal compared to the Potter family vaults, themselves. This arrangement was to be maintained until either the war definitively ended and Charlus survived to allow James access to the vaults once more, or Harry Potter came of age to inherit the Potter family vaults."

"May I ask why this was made?" Slender asked, curious.

Snagrock scowled, but not at Slender, rather a memory, "James Potter was an absolute fool financially. Could hardly hold onto any gold he made before it would be spent or 'given to a worthy cause'. In hardly 5 years since the agreement went into effect, almost all of the money had gone.

"And as reference, in the Wizarding world, a family of three can very comfortably sustain themselves on perhaps less than 10,000 galleons for that amount of time. No, James Potter spent nearly _all_ of that money towards Dumbledore and the War Effort.

"Thankfully, Lily Potter had a good head on her shoulders, or at least a financially conscientious one. She saw the pattern of her husband's spending and arranged roughly 2,000 galleons into a Trust Vault for Harry alone for school and anything he may need growing up. She ensured that no one outside of her son could withdraw from that vault."

Snagrock grinned (for a goblin, at least), "Charlus, however, learned about Lily's plan before he passed. He was the one to secretly arrange for more money to be set into the Trust Vault, such that it totals around 10,000 galleons at the moment. While Lily stipulated that no one could _withdraw_ from the vault, she made it so deposits could still be made in case it ran low or she needed somewhere secure to ensure money for her son wouldn't be spent by her husband. Charlus took advantage of that and secretly deposited into that account.

"Hence, Harry Potter inherited a single vault from his parents, a rather meager sum at the time of their death and hiding, as well as the Trust Vault he may now access for school supplies and similar. Then, of course, there are the main Potter family vaults with several offshooting branches of dormant or dead Trust vaults, donation vaults, and investment vaults."

Slenderman nodded thoughtfully, "It certainly seems like a good plan. I notice the family vaults as well-"

"Mr. Lindermann," Ironshard interrupted, "I apologize, but shouldn't you already know this?"

"I beg your pardon?" The entity's passive face broke and showed the intense concern.

"The statements, yes? We are, after all, a bank first and foremost. It's customary for any bank, magical or not, to deliver monthly statements to our patrons and their guardians on a regular basis. As soon as you registered for the guardianship, you should have immediately received notifications."

Slender pinched his sinus-less nose, frustrated, "I'm afraid we have wards around our property that don't allow-"

"No, no, sir," Ironshard responded firmly, "Our system works in a way that no ward in existence can prevent our messages from being delivered. Even if it has to go through the muggle way, it always gets delivered regardless of whatever wards are in place. Much like the Hogwarts Letter delivery system, ours is an ancient magic, but absolute." The goblins were now mirroring Slender's earlier concern.

"We have not received any form of these messages," Slender replied evenly.

Ironshard once more seemed to listen to the stillness in the room, sensing the wards for any sign of a lie. "He's telling the truth." He finally replied.

The goblins took out multiple folders and shifted through hundreds of pages in seconds while talking hurriedly in a harsh, guttural language before Stoneskull addressed the guardian, "Mr. Lindermann, may we ask when, _exactly_, was your appointment as Harry Potter's guardian filed?"

"As soon as it was signed, on December 25th, 2005."

Goldhammer shook his head, "This doesn't make sense. How could that happen? The moment you were instated as his guardian, you should have received any and all mail Mr. Potter used to get."

"Um, excuse me?" They turned to Harry, who nervously shifted in his seat, "I've never received any mail."

"What do you mean?" Snagrock asked.

"I've never received any mail before I went to Sl- Solomon." He corrected quickly.

"No birthday cards? Statements? Letters? Anything?" Goldhammer asked seriously. Harry replied, "Never."

"I want to see those documents myself!" Snagrock barked. Goldhammer immediately handed him several documents which he shuffled through quickly. "It says here that all transactions, all mail, and so forth is to be handled and monitored by your Magical Guardian… or at least, prior to your transfer, it was to be monitored by your previous one. After the transfer, Mr. Lindermann should have received them."

"Magical Guardian?" Harry asked, surprised, "Who were they?"

The goblins looked up and stared at him mutely before Goldhammer spoke, "A Magical Guardian is your contact and guardian in the magical world. They're the closest magical relative for halfblood or pureblood children, but for muggleborn or very-early-on muggle-raised children, they are assigned or decided after their Hogwarts Acceptance Letter or when they open an account here.

"A Magical Guardian is responsible for your wellbeing both in and outside the magical world."

"That's rubbish!" Harry interjected, "I was treated like garbage at the Dursleys. I still have no idea who this person was. Not once did he ever help me when I was at that Hellhole."

"Harry." Slender warned.

"… that place..."

"Better."

The goblins chattered in their language again, angrily shuffling papers around and some barking orders to another. Finally, they produced a single document. Goldhammer frowned heavily, "It appears as though your magical guardian was decided to be Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts. He and Minerva McGonagall generally takes in most muggleborn students, but what is unorthodox is how it seems the only mention that he is your guardian is on an obscure form sealing the guardianship."

Slender bristled in anger before taking a calming breath, "And does… _Dumbledore_ have any more control over Harry's accounts?"

The goblins were slightly taken aback by the venom in the man's voice, but Stoneskull shook his head, "No, sir, this contract was voided the moment you took control. All documentation regarding management and guardianship of Harry Potter to Albus Dumbledore is either voided or redirected to yourself."

Slender nodded, "May I ask just how he became Harry's magical guardian?"

Stoneskull considered the question, glancing over a few documents, "Well, he'd first need approval from Mr. Potter's parents, then given the circumstances regarding Mr. Potter he would probably have to go through the Wizengamot to get approval, and lastly he'd need certification through Gringotts bank."

He pulled out several forms, "It appears he'd attained all of the necessary components as well, except for parental approval. However, all previously approved magical guardians by Lily and James Potter and magical relatives were deceased or incapacitated so his guardianship was in the air for a while. It seems the Wizengamot ruled in favor of Dumbledore in this instance. So, we must conclude his claims are legitimate."

"I see." Slender's tone became somewhat begrudging, but again he used a lot of mental control to reign in his frustrations and project an aura of calmness. "I would appreciate any way to attain these statements safely and securely. If necessary, I have… something that may help."

He held his arm upwards and bent like a falcon tamer providing a perch. He let out a low whistle and waited in the silence. The goblins were confused, wondering if the man was just a little mad, before they jumped to attention when a dark shadow congregated in the center of a wall. The shadow erupted into another shape as it sailed through the air and landed on Slender's arm. "This is a messenger bird used by myself and others. They are fast, instantaneous, and secure. However, I do not own it and merely use it for professional purposes. If you provide the dates the statements are released, a bird will arrive and retrieve it."

The goblins eyed the shadowy bird in surprise before supplying that the statements were written on the first of each month and instructed his bird to show at the Gringotts owlery and a goblin would give it the message. The bird nodded once in comprehension before shooting back at the wall and dissolving.

Ironshard stared in amazement at the spot before turning to the guardian, "Mr. Lindermann, I must admit I am thoroughly…" He was at a loss for words. Finally, he continued, "I must ask what form of magical creature that was."

Slender allowed a glamoured smirk, "Unfortunately, it's not magical. It's only rare and rather dangerous. They prefer darker regions that are less populated and, as you can imagine, can teleport almost instantaneously if threatened or found."

"B-but, a _bird_ showed some remarkable form of apparating, or Wizarding teleportation. If you could provide any information on it, it would be an extraordinary discovery in magic." The Magical Analyst had devoted his life not only to understanding magic on a level most Wizards outside of the Department of Mysteries could ever hope to attain, but also towards using magic to benefit Gringotts as a Nation. A bird that could relay messages instantly and securely would be a valuable asset to the Wizarding bank.

"I'm sorry, but I must protest. As I explained, it's not mine and people would notice if it went missing." Slender explained calmly.

The goblin grunted, slightly disappointed. "Very well, though similar… peculiarities are also of interest."

"Peculiarities?"

Stoneskull nodded and interjected, "This is where my specialty comes into play. Every contract has a loophole, every document must have binding relations with the establishment and certain stipulations, and finally every contract must be firm and immutable. The contracts you apparently used for guardianship defy those rules. As a Contract Specialist, I would be very interested in knowing how you pulled that one off.

"You see, about two years ago, a new law came into effect that would cause missing children such as Harry Potter to be considered kidnapped by anyone claiming to be a guardian without proper legalization. Your contract, as it stood, would have been void. However, within seconds of the bill's passing, the contract _changed_ itself such that there were no loopholes.

"In effect, the contract boiled down to; "you, unnamed guardian, are the irrefutable and irreversible guardian to Harry James Potter until such a time that both parties may decide to dissolve the document". Any attempts to bypass this were met with some stipulation in the contract. Any old laws that hadn't been thought of or brought up in centuries were considered and blocked. Essentially, the perfect contract for your needs."

He leaned in anxiously, "In other words, Mr. Lindermann, how did you do it?"

Slender let out a low chuckle, "I'm afraid I didn't draft the document. Nor am I aware of how they are written. Though, I will say; we simply have one _Hell_ of a legal department"

The goblins went through some more general paperwork, tension winding down into monotonous legalese, before the creatures finally rose, gave parting phrase along the lines of "wealth" and "victory" and walked the (very bored) group of wards out of the conference room and back into the main lobby.

McGonagall sat up immediately from her spot on the benches in the atrium and rushed over, "Mr. Lindermann, are you alright? Is anyone hurt? Are-"

"Professor," Slendy calmly interrupted, "It's alright. There was just some confusion with my guardianship. I assure you it's all been taken care of and with minimal bloodshed."

"There was blood," The Professor replied, paling rapidly.

Slender raised his eyebrows, "Should there be?" Minerva didn't respond, instead she just allowed herself to be led to the bench by Slenderman to overcome minimal shock.

As they began to leave, she called out faintly, "Wait, I have Mr. Potter's key. Dumbledore gave it to me." She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, gold key which Slender accepted.

The disguised entity nodded in thanks and followed the goblins to a dungeon-like chamber with a mine rail running through it. A few moments later, a large seated cart on a set of confusing mechanisms rumbled up to their position. A goblin sat on a small control area. Snagrock introduced him, "This is Griphook, he will escort you to your vaults, Mr. Potter."

The large group of disguised killers and wizards each took a seat with Smile sitting next to Jeff. Slenderman seated himself by Griphook and his brows furrowed as he looked around his sides, "Where are the seatbelts, Griphook?"

"Sorry, we don't install them." Griphook replied with a slight upturn to his lips, "Hang on." He pulled a lever-

-and the cart rocketed forward!

It barreled down the rickety mine rails at easily the speed of a racecar, never slowing or stopping, even when pulling seemingly-impossible loop-de-loops or curves. A gyroscope-like mechanism kept the cart centered as the wheels followed the confusing mess of rails, but it was still an intense experience of up and down jolts, sudden sideways turns, and even one instance the _cart left the rail and free flew to the other side_!

Jeff and Toby held their arms up in excitement, laughing like a roller coaster. Sally screamed excitedly as EJ screamed in terror, clutching his cane in his hand while gripping the seat for dear life. Harry and Nick both had mixed feelings of exhilaration and terror while Adrian was just clamping himself to the seat, jaw clenched in silent, sheer anxiety as the wind whipped around them.

Slender's glamour couldn't maintain neutrality and his false face showed his genuine, true terror as they rocketed by, his tie haphazardly flapping behind him. Harry noticed his foot seemed to be slamming repeatedly on an imaginary brake pedal as if he were driving a car.

The roller coaster of a minecart eventually lurched to a halt in front of one iron door almost as tall as that Hagrid person outside. Griphook glanced at some numerals at the top of the vault before announcing, "Vault 687!"

He hopped out of the cart, carrying a large oil lamp, "Watch your step, please."

The group slowly got out of the minecart, some still buzzed from excitement, others, like EJ, jelly-legged as they slowly crawled out with both hands on something at all times.

Slender was the last to get out. His pale, glamoured face looked unusually green and his legs seemed unsteady as he slowly stood up from his spot. "Oh, dear Creator, I think I'm about to be sick." He mumbled miserably.

Sally, combing her frazzled hair down, turned to Harry and whispered, "How's that possible if you don't have a mouth." They snickered quietly. Griphook overheard just barely and raised an eyebrow, but ignored it entirely.

Slenderman turned to the goblin once he composed himself, "I don't suppose we could move a bit _slower_ or on a track with less… flying?"

"One speed only." The goblin said, grinning, before returning to a business-like neutrality, "Key, please."

Slender nodded sullenly and handed Griphook the key McGonagall provided. "May I ask how you knew where to go?"

"I actually don't. The key guides the cart while I mostly plot the most direct course." The Goblin admitted.

"A key does that?" Jeff asked.

Griphook rolled his eyes briefly, "It's magic, sir." Jeff scoffed in return, mumbling about how he could've guessed that much.

The goblin escort took the key and opened a hidden latch to the steel door. He inserted the key and twisted it to cause the vault to click open and slowly swing outward.

The wards of Slenderman gasped in awe as the reflection of thousands of coins reflected back at them from neat stacks of golden galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. Griphook handed Harry a complementary sack (no enchantments, just an old, small potato sack) as it was his first visit.

Harry filled it with a good number of galleons, a few sickles, and a couple of knuts. Harry let the others handle some of the coins and Jeff bit into a galleon and inspected the tooth marks confirming it was real gold. Slender asked Griphook about tuition fees and was told to contact Snagrock on that subject.

They made their way onto the cart again as Griphook caused it to start up again. They rode along at the same speed as before, to Slender's chagrin.

Then the cart dropped suddenly, surprising even the goblin driving. He checked the levers and dials indicating the course in confusion as the cart kept descending deeper and deeper into the massive cave system of Gringotts vaults.

After almost a full ten minutes of heart-stopping terror, the ride slammed to a jarring stop at what looked like a small iron post at the very end of the rail line. The confused goblin looked around the dark location in confusion before turning to a large, blank wall of obsidian with another number engraved in the top.

"V-vault 1318." The goblin said with a slight waver. They exited the cart and the goblin hopped out as soon as he could. "Mr. Lindermann, I-I admit I'm a bit confused here. You claimed to not be aware of the magical world, yet you seem to have a key this vault."

Slendy hummed thoughtfully once the motion sickness passed. "Well, this is actually the vault of an... associate of mine."

"B-b-but this vault was made centuries ago! Back when this Gringotts bank was still under construction! May I ask exactly who owns it at this time?" Griphook asked in shock.

"Nobody you need to be concerned with." Slenderman assured the creature. "He has been generous enough to allow us to use it." The goblin let the group approach the wall silently.

Jeff scoffed slightly. "Heh, you said this is Z's? I thought he'd go for something more theatrical, like 'Vault 613' or 'Vault 666'. You know?"

Slendy ran a hand against the jagged obsidian and continued to analyze it as he talked. "Well, actually Jeffery, you may not be far off the mark. 1318. I believe Za-, er "Z", as you called him, is fond of subtlety. If memory serves, Revelations 13:18 is the passage in the Christian Bible that has the Number of the Beast, so he may have thought it a personal joke."

The Griphook was confused. From how they spoke, it sounded like this "Z" created the vault (as the vault number had been specifically chosen when it was being built) and their use of present tense suggested he was still alive which was inconceivable. Not even the Flamels had been around that long. Regardless, he had his job.

"S-sir, I'm afraid there's been no way to replicate the key to this vault. No one knows why, but we haven't been able to access anything inside since it was built even though it collects minimal interest automatically and we've documented several objects being added during the yearly ledger overview though nobody's brought anyone down. However, from the cart's enchantments, you appear to have some form of the key, correct?" He asked the tall entity still examining the wall.

"Yes, I do." Slender reached into his inner pocket and produced the golden key he'd received not long ago. He placed it in a certain crevice where three cracks met and turned it. Lines glowing malignant red seemed to snake out from the center and traveled across the expanse of obsidian. The cracks coalesced and formed ancient symbols of text.

Slender chuckled at the phrase, "Appropriate," He translated at his wards' silent question, "It says, 'With insatiable Greed comes an unfillable void in the heart. Those that seek to fill the void, consume the world.' It rhymes in the original language."

The lines faded and a long, straight crack appeared in the seemingly-solid black surface. The doors opened.

Griphook stood with his mouth gaping as these seemingly random strangers just gained access to the most mysterious vault in the entire bank. As his superiors had expected, the vault was filled to the brim with galleons, sickles, and even a few knuts, but there were chests of precious gems, weapons that radiated power, and a rather sizable collection of objects that emitted a Dark aura.

Slenderman ignored the excited gasps and whispers of his wards and simply collected a good number of galleons and a few sickles in a bag before leaving.

"Wait!" Toby exclaimed, suddenly, "I've been dying to try something, can I? Pleeeeaaaseee?"

Slender gave a cautious nod and kept an eye on the ward. Toby let out a loud "Woo-hoo!" and ran straight into the vault.

Slender barely eked out a syllable of warning as the Proxy dove arms-out straight at a large pile of gold on the floor.

*CRACK!*

Everyone, including Griphook, flinched at the crunching and cracking sound. Toby's body was lying spread-eagle on the gold surface. His limbs were contorted at odd angles, thankfully with no bones poking out, but obviously with a few dislocations and definite bruising.

In response, Toby just 'hmmed' thoughtfully, "Scrooge McDuck lied to me. It's not a liquid. It's a great many pieces of solid matter that form a hard floor-like surface."

He shifted his shoulder roughly and popped one arm in place. Then, after a series of popping and cracking as he jerkily reconnected his body, he stood up and stretched his arms and spine out (eliciting more cracks) and walked right out.

EJ gave him a discrete nod at Slender to confirm he would give Toby a thorough check-up later.

The doors closed behind the Proxy and sealed themselves once more into the solid obsidian wall. Slender removed the key and returned it to his pocket before turning to the goblin currently frozen in shock. "Thank you, Griphook, I believe that will be all for now."

Griphook led the group back to the main cart system, still casting side-long glances at Toby out of worry.

Eventually, they walked out of the catacomb area and back into the opulent atrium of Gringotts. McGonagall stood up from her spot once more and began counting the number of children in the group, relieved when all seemed accounted for.

As they turned towards the exit, Teller Goldhammer and Potter Account Manager Snagrock approached Slenderman. "Mr. Lindermann, I hope your visit to Gringotts has been a pleasant one." Snagrock said, grinning.

"Yes, quite enjoyable." Slender replied evenly.

"Well, we will review the documents regarding what we discussed and everything will be settled. However, we will need to schedule a time later." The grin widened.

"Oh, what for?"

"Paperwork, Mr. Lindermann, paperwork. Tuitions for Misters Brahms and Thresher, tuition through Potter Vaults for Mr. Potter, management of the paperwork and documentation regarding the Potter Vaults and the subsequent vaults that have, regrettably, been held up and backed up for almost a decade. My, how time flies." The goblin said brightly, still wearing a wicked grin.

"I suppose this is revenge, then?" Slenderman asked, eyes narrowed.

"It's just business."

The two were silent. McGonagall and the wards watched apprehensively at the mute stare down between the two non-humans.

The taller gave a begrudging huff, "Well played, good sir, well played."

* * *

McGonagall led the group outside of Gringotts and back into the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. She attempted conversation with the guardian. "Mr. Lindermann, I was meaning to ask how exactly you came to watch over so many children."

Slender thought it over, "I suppose I've just always been like that. I'm unmarried and, even then, am unable to have children. So, I have resources and offer my home to children like my wards."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lindermann," McGonagall said softly after a pause, "I realize it must be difficult to not have a family at your age."

"And what age do you think I am?" Slender asked, bemused.

McGonagall frowned slightly, looking over the glamoured face before replying, "Perhaps 30. Or 35."

The entity chuckled, "Quite flattering, Madame."

"You're older?!" She gasped in shock. Slender simply smiled.

"I'm as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth." He stated, chuckling lightly. Sally leaned to Harry and whispered doubts whether he had either.

The older Transfiguration Professor led them to a busy shop called "Madame Malkin's". They opened the door and an invisible bell rang out with a musical chime. A plump woman with a cheerful face and mauve robes walked in from the back room with a young assistant girl. "Hello, dearies, what can I do for all of you?"

"Three for Hogwarts." McGonagall stated. The woman nodded happily and requested that Harry, Nick, and Adrian all move to the other room.

One boy was already standing on one of the stools in the room, arms out as magical measuring tapes and pins flew about, controlled by an assistant. The platinum-blonde glanced over at them as they took their spots on three other stools. "Hello, Hogwarts too?"

They confirmed. The boy drawled on, "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Adrian raised an eyebrow at the very non sequitur (and exhaustively long) conversation pathway. Harry flinched at faded memories of Dudley resurfacing. The boy didn't wait for a response. "Have _you_ got your own broom?"

They denied. "Play Quidditch at all?" They denied. "_I_ do- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in, yet?" They denied. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

They gave a generally noncommittal noise. "I say, look at that man!"

They followed his finger out of surprise at the outburst and noticed it pointing to Slender, who was looking at several swaths of cloth and asking an assistant about them. The others were milling about. "What an odd fellow, isn't he? I've never seen someone that young with white hair. Do you think it's a curse or something?" His hand went up to his own hair somewhat protectively. "And I've never seen someone that tall!"

"He's our guardian," Nick replied, contributing to the conversation first.

"Guardian? I suppose then you're parents are dead?" The boy said, only mildly interested.

Nick looked away and shrugged. Harry nodded. Adrian simply didn't reply. "Well, they were _our_ kind weren't they?"

Again, shrugs or no response. The boy didn't seem fazed, "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they got their letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old Wizarding families. What're your names anyway?"

They didn't even answer as Madame Malkin shooed the boy off the stool. As he left, he turned and drawled, "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." And left.

They were silent as several pins floated about, pinning black fabric into robes over them and measuring tapes took lengths. Harry finally spoke, "That was, single-handedly, _the most_ one-sided conversation I've ever heard."

The boys chuckled and the assistants around them pinched their lips together to fight the smiles form overhearing the joke and the conversation. The measurements were made and finished shortly. They met with Slender in the other side of the shop. Jeff whistled at the black robes, "Wow, spiffy."

Madame Malkin rang up the robes along with winter wear cloaks for later in the year and Slender paid with the sack of coins he carried looped around his shoulder. Professor McGonagall showed them how the bags would be shrunk for convenience and would wear off by midnight (Britain Time), so keep the purchases in a large enough space for when they re-expand.

They moved on to the bookstore, Flourish and Blott's. Slender quickly scanned through the books, selecting the ones on Harry's list along with a dozen or so more for further and more modern research, including "Hogwarts, a History", "Great Historical Figures of the 20th Century", and "The Modern Theory on Magic".

BEN, Toby, and Sally were excitedly looking through books on magical creatures and places, finding out which were real or any ones they hadn't heard of before along with several stories of heroes slaying those mythical creatures and doing heroic deeds with magical methods. EJ pretended to just be wandering about blindly, leaning against some shelves and staring randomly, but was skimming the titles to note which ones to discretely hand Slender for further research.

While they were there, they bought standard stationary. Jeff couldn't help himself when they brought out the writing utensils.

"_Quills_?" He cackled incredulously. Sally and Harry snickered in agreement. A normal pen was much more convenient (and sturdier) than a feather with some notches in it that had to be refilled every other word.

"Quills are a time-honored tradition." Slender argued. "A mark of penmanship. An art of calligraphy."

"Quite so," McGonagall agreed, "Now, I understand most muggles are unaccustomed to quills, so it may help if you pract-"

She was effectively cut off as Slenderman wrote on a scrap piece of paper set out for testing inks and quills. He wrote his alias name "Solomon" in an ornate, scrawling writing perfectly aligned with the other's letter height, neither dipping in line height nor weight, and embellishing it with a small swirl underneath.

They briefly visited the Magical Menagerie as Slender explained they couldn't maintain a magical animal in their home. Though, it was interesting to see the various species in cages and paddocks around the space. Though, a majority shied away from the group. They expected as much, animals were never too comfortable around Slender.

They eventually made it through various shops for odds and ends before finally making it to the Apothecary. Harry, Nick, and Adrian focused on purchasing the unpleasant potions ingredients (Nick, in particular was rather squeamish about the multitude of insect parts they carried). EJ noted several jars and barrels of material and sniffed them.

The Apothecary manager walked over. EJ turned to him, "Are those…?"

The manager chuckled, "Yep. Cow hearts, cow kidneys, cow livers, pig brains, pickled sheep hearts…" He stopped and turned to Jeff, pointing back at EJ, "Hey, is your friend okay?"

Jack stared with glazed-over eyes (hidden behind sunglasses) and a bit of drool at the barrel of juicy, red cow kidneys piled on top of one another. Jeff steered him away from that area until they finally left (Though, Jack managed to sneak in several organs during purchase).

They walked out into the street-

And were assaulted by noise and flashes of light.

"Mr. Potter!"

"Over here!"

"Daily Prophet, Mr. Potter can you tell us who is that man you're with?"

"Where have you been all these years?"

"Are you staying in Britain, Mr. Potter?"

Minerva tried frantically to shout above the din, but even years of her sternest glare didn't outmatch a large crowd of reporters clamoring over one another at the Apothecary's entrance.

Suddenly, they stopped shouting and kneeled over in pain. Minerva, herself, had to hold a hand to her head at a sudden, mild pain that developed behind her temple and a high-pitched ringing sound in her ear. Then, the cameras burst like popcorn, ruining the film inside and destroying the camera's capability to continue.

The Alley was much quieter, so Slender's voice carried, "No photography. No comment. And we'd appreciate it if you did not follow us."

The wards walked through the crowd, parting the still stunned reporters and photographers. Minerva had to jog a bit to keep up, hand pressed to the side of her head as the headache ebbed away almost as quickly as it came. She chalked it up to, perhaps, one of the boys' accidental magic outbursts.

"'ello again, Pr'fessor!" Came a booming voice behind them. They turned to see Hagrid smiling, looking pleased with himself and one hand behind his back. "And 'ello to you, too, Harry."

"Hello again, Hagrid," McGonagall said tiredly. He meant well, but he was the direct cause of the fiasco just then, alerting the civilians at Gringotts who probably alerted the reporters as quickly as they could.

Hagrid noticed the large crowd of reporters and put 2 and 2 together, feeling rather sheepish. "Er, sorry 'bout tha'. Didn't think 'fore I called out Harry's name back in Gringotts."

"It's fine, Hagrid," Minerva assured him.

Hagrid's face brightened and he straightened, "I got yer a present, Harry."

The British citizen-by-birth was surprised as the half-giant pulled a cage from behind his back. Inside was a beautiful, snowy white owl with luminescent, gold eyes. Despite the unusual man and the suddenness of the gift, Harry was still awestruck as he took the cage, "She's beautiful."

Sally gasped in awe at the bird as well, admiring it. "Can we keep her?" She asked Slender.

"Well…" The bird turned to look at him and didn't seem fazed by his presence. It would be a useful tool for inconspicuous "Wizard Mail". "I imagine it was rather expensive-"

"Oh, don' you worry. I bought 'er from the Menagerie. Friends with one of the blokes behind the counter. 'e gave me a good discount on an owl, considerin' she's a bit of a fireball to customers, but jus' landed right on me shoulder. Even then, I felt like I oughtta get a present for Harry, 'ere. His birthday, soon, ya know."

"Thank you." Harry said, sincerely.

"Now, she hasn' got a name, yet. So I'll leave that to you." Hagrid said, beaming. He walked off, waving good naturedly back at the group.

McGonagall led them to a rather busy shop in the Alley called Fortesque's Ice Cream. Sally was ecstatic by all of the flavor choices and got a watermelon and strawberry sundae. Toby wanted the "Banangerine-Quadruple-Berry-Blast" flavor, but Slender talked him down to the less-outrageous cherry and vanilla flavor.

They sat at a table, Minerva indulging (at the group's insistence) on a small rum raisin scoop in a cup with a spoon. They let Hedwig out of the cage and she immediately flew onto Harry's shoulder and nibbled his ear affectionately before he pulled out an owl treat Hagrid also gave them. As she gnawed on the biscuit, they began talking, "So, what do we name her?"

"How about Loftwing?" BEN suggested. Hedwig flew over and pecked his head, hooting in displeasure before flying back to Harry. BEN rubbed his head angrily, "Or Cucco.." He mumbled.

Sally looked the bird over, contemplating, "Snowy? Snowball? Whitefeather? Blanca?" The bird was much kinder in its declining hoots to the girl. BEN grumbled further about 'bird favoritism'.

Harry eventually pulled out his history texts for historical names, "Cleopatra? Joan? Circe? Abigail? Hedwig?"

The owl perked up suddenly and hooted excitedly at the last name, "You want to be called Hedwig?" Harry asked. She replied with a very affirmative hoot. "Then, Hedwig it is!" He declared.

Minerva was somewhat impressed by the transaction. The owl was incredibly smart, even by magical owl standards. "Now, Mr. Potter, you are allowed an owl. If your friends would also like an owl, cat, or toad, they are more than welcome to find one."

"Er, Professor? Are we allowed to have two pets?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. The rules stipulate one pet per student." McGonagall stated.

Harry sighed, looking at Hedwig sadly, stroking her feathers, "Then, I can't keep her. I've already got BRVR back home and I really don't want to leave him behind."

"I could watch her, Harry." Nick offered, smiling.

Adrian nodded, "Yes… by the rules, BRVR could be your… 'cat' and Hedwig could be Nick's owl. That doesn't mean Harry can't have her visit or even just care for her."

Minerva's lips upturned slightly, "Quite right, Mr. Thresher. Of course, I never heard anything about bending the rules and as far as I know, this 'BRVR' is Harry's official pet cat and Hedwig will be Nikolaus's pet owl." The group nodded gratefully.

They left the shop shortly after, still talking about the new developments as they walked down the Alley. Finally, Professor McGonagall reached a small, dark shop in the middle of the alley. It was much older than the surrounding buildings with thick glass revealing a display of wands on pillows. Above it was a sign "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

They entered the tiny shop area and set off a small bell alert in the depths of the shop. They looked around the store at the shelves upon shelves of small, thin boxes piled neatly on top of one another as high as the ceiling. The only other items in the room were a single, spindly chair and the counter with a small register on it.

The air seemed thick with magic and Slender felt the need to glance at Smile and BEN to ensure their pendants were still functioning properly. As it was, the dust was certainly giving the air a musky feeling like a library or one of the Mansion's old storage rooms.

It was dead quiet and the stacks and dust seemed to absorb and muffle any sound that came in. When the doors shut, the sounds outside immediately silenced. For a while, it felt almost like a void.

"Good afternoon." A voice came from the shadows, startling them.

The man walked into the pale light let in from the thick, dusty windows. He was very old, with lots of wispy, white hair making it seem almost ethereal. His eyes were wide and silvery like pale moons that took in everything they saw.

His eyes wandered over McGonagall and his eyebrows furrowed as the mysterious orbs passed over each of the wards curiously. Finally, he stopped on the tall adult and his lip slightly upturned in a smirk before vanishing just as quick.

He turned to the older woman with a slight bow. "Madame McGonagall, always a pleasure to see you. 9 ½ inches. Fir. Whippy. Dragon Heartstring of a rather fierce Scottish Hebridean Black. Perfectly suited for Transfiguration, as you've proven." The wandmaker said. The Professor nodded in confirmation before singling out the three students.

"These are Nikolaus Brahms, Adrian Thresher, and Harry Potter, starting at Hogwarts this Fall."

"I see, Madam. I'll get started on it then, shall I?" He said happily, "Oh, but I'm afraid one takes quite some time, three will be rather long. Can you stay?" His pearly-white eyes stared into hers unblinkingly.

The Transfigurations Mistress's eyes widened in sudden realization. "Oh, dear! I've entirely forgotten a different appointment with another family soon!" She hurriedly reached into her pockets and produced three small tickets, "These are the tickets to the train Platform to get to Hogwarts. It departs at 11:00 AM sharp on September 1st at Kings Cross Station. Platform 9 ¾. Goodbye, now. I'm terribly sorry, but I must go."

She bustled out the door and back through the busy street. Slender watched with concern as she left, holding the tickets in his hand before putting them in his pocket.

She had told them earlier that she had cleared her schedule.

He turned back to Mr. Ollivander, who was smiling pleasantly and looking straight at him. The old man shuffled past the group and turned the small sign on the door from "Open" to "Closed" before turning back to him.

"Well, well, well. It really is lovely of you to visit. It's been quite some time, hasn't it Slenderman?"

* * *

**AN: I had to include that scene with Toby and the vault. I stumbled on the Family Guy clip online and it was just so hilarious and cringe-worthy.**

**It's interesting, but Revelations 13:18 is one of the few passages of the Christian Bible I can remember by book, chapter, number, etc. Primarily because "Revelations" is the whole end-of-the-world chapter, 13 is generally unlucky, but 18 is 6+6+6. I always wondered if that was somewhat intentional.**

**The most wicked revenge of all… paperwork.**

**The scene from Madame Malkin's is largely transcribed from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, with alterations made accordingly.**

**For reference, "Loftwing" is a bird in the Zelda Franchise, and "Cucco" is the infamous white chicken that attacks Link relentlessly if he provokes it. So, essentially, BEN subtly insulted Hedwig as a "crazy, white chicken with anger issues".**

**I know some people hate them, but God, I love cliffhangers!**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**Sincerely,**

**Crow**


	24. The Wandmaker

**I own nothing**

**-Crow**

* * *

_"It's been quite some time, hasn't it Slenderman?_"

It was like the air in the room was sucked out or became as thick and heavy as the choking amounts of dust. Slender straightened his back, making him seem even taller than his original glamour appeared. The wards around him shifted defensively.

"Oh, do put that knife away, boy, it's rather rude to do that during a greeting." Ollivander chided.

Jeff, stunned at being singled out, slowly put the large kitchen knife he'd been gradually sneaking out back in the holster hidden in his hoodie pocket. The others tensed, ready for anything to come from this old man.

Mr. Ollivander merely chuckled good-naturedly.

They were caught off guard. His pale eyes were shining with some hidden joke and he shook his head as though humoring someone's actions. "Please follow me to the back room." He said.

He opened the small door to the counter and led them through the tall cases of wands to a discrete door towards the back. Opening it revealed a small living room with a simple table and three chairs, a sofa in the corner, a few rugs, a tall grandfather clock, and a curtained window. Aside from that, were shelves upon shelves of books and papers with stacks piling higher than the man himself precariously resting around the room. "Please have a seat." He offered.

He took out his own wand and swished it, causing several more chairs to appear from nowhere around the table and the table to expand to accommodate the visitor numbers. The group slowly sat down at the offered chairs, still confused by this man's genial hospitality.

"Tea?"

Ollivander broke the silence by bringing over a cast-iron tea kettle from a small kitchenette just in the next room, small wisps of steam puffed from the spout. They all politely declined and the old man shrugged and poured the amber drink in his own mug, "Please don't mind if I have some. It's rather stuffy in the shop and it makes me rather thirsty at times."

He sat down at the head of the table, just next to Slender, who was still eying the calm wandmaker suspiciously. After a minute of tense silence and Ollivander sipping his drink, he spoke to the point. "Mr. Ollivander, how did you know my name?"

The wandmaker chuckled, "All in good time. Perhaps some introductions are in order, then?" He looked across the table to the number of wards.

They introduced themselves with their alias names and Ollivander simply smiled and nodded, like humoring a children's game of make-believe. After the introductions were complete (with a surprised wide-eyed glance at Harry Potter when re-introduced), he spoke again, "Well, then, my name is Garrick Ollivander. Premier wandmaker in all of Great Britain and a researcher in the ancient art of wandlore.

"Now, perhaps some background information may help." He said calmly. "I am primarily a researcher. I study the universe in all of its complexity and glory. The very basis of existence and the very essence of the stars. In my long life, I've seen many things, seen many strange creatures, and of course experienced much. However, I have come across something that has captivated me; magic!

"Now, it's a bit unfair to just blanket-term it 'magic' as it implies many untrue assumptions and rather unscientific circumstances, but that's the term that's associated with it. I study how the mortal soul interacts with wands and foci to produce and direct magical energy. How this energy alters the very fabric of space, time, and physics. How it adjusts the odds of Quantum existence and calls up one in ten _billion_ odds upon command." He let out a wheezy laugh as Jack's mouth literally dropped open at the mention of physics _here_ of all places.

"Oh, yes, though don't get too excited, young man. I doubt you will ever find another magical soul who's even heard of the photon, aside from an occasional muggleborn. I am a very unique person, you'll find.

"This magical energy is at the core of every marvel in the universe. And as such, I have spent the last 2000 years exploring it."

He smiled pleasantly at the faces around him incredulously trying to comprehend that the man in front of them was at least two millennia.

"Do all wizards live that long? Will Harry?" She asked innocently.

Ollivander chuckled, "No, my dear, most don't live beyond 200 at most." Still awe-filled faces. "Not to sound arrogant, but as I said, I am rather unique.

"I was already somewhat old by the time I first began wandmaking. But I've kept at it, making fine wands ever since."

Adrian's eyes narrowed, "Wait. That sign outside. It said 'Maker's of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.'"

The wandmaker nodded, eyes gleaming, "Of course. I personally find it hilarious that not even the quote/unquote 'Great Albus Dumbledore' thought about how his own _grandfather_ got a wand from Garrick Ollivander, he, himself, got a wand from Garrick Ollivander, and every single child he's ever taught in the last 80 years at Hogwarts has received a wand from Garrick Ollivander."

"Wow," Sally whispered, "You must be, like, a million years old!"

Ollivander smiled. "Well, as an entity as old as Creation, more or less, I'll take the compliment." He said cheerfully.

"How can something be older than Creation?" Adrian asked curiously. Ollivander merely winked and continued.

"As you can imagine, I've travelled far into the cosmos, experiencing the Universe as it came to me," His moon-like eyes shimmered with memories, "It was absolutely _fantastic_! The creation of nebulae, the formation of planets, the development of species from slimy remnants of the sea to a powerful dominant species, the ice rings of Perxion 6, the diamond valleys of Arcadia, the ominous Medusa Cascade, the rivers of liquified sapphire on Andromeda 61452, the sideways glass hailstorms on HD 189733b, oh that was _not_ a day to forget your umbrella," He let out another wheezy laugh before composing himself.

"I travelled far, observing the universe as I went. Seeing all of the wonder of that cosmic dance around us… and the pain…"

His voice trailed off as the smile slid downwards and his pale eyes turned somewhat glassy and lost their glow. "Entire planets have crumbled to dust. Entire species… obliterated in milliseconds. Men, women, children, all gone. An entire planet… a once-great race… gone in a blink… lost to time itself."

The man stared into his mug, lost in the ripples on the surface of the liquid. Suddenly, he seemed almost as if he _looked_ every second of that eternity he'd existed. Almost too quietly, he whispered to himself, "No more."

The wards were enraptured in silence. No one dared to break the silence even as the clock ticked away, muffled by the rugs and books.

Finally, Slender spoke, "Who _are_ you?"

The old wandmaker looked back and a glimmer reappeared in his eyes. "Have you forgotten, Slender? It seems like only last millennia that I was telling off a tiny, 2-foot-tall Slenderman and Offenderman for playing in my laboratory."

He leaned in conspiratorially and loudly 'whispered' to the others, "He added some stardust to an orchid and accidentally created the first vanilla plant. I had to tell them off, Creator knows I didn't need another toxic mugwort situation on my hand, but it was a _magnificent_ achievement."

Slender was sitting in his chair, too stunned to say anything as the old man sat back in his chair, sipping his tea with a smile. He whispered, "The Researcher?"

"Yes." Ollivander confirmed calmly. "It's good to see you again."

Slenderman couldn't seem to make a coherent speech. His mental projection instead choosing to sputter fragments and fractions of long-dead languages with occasional Gaelic or Latin mixed in. Ollivander merely chuckled as the mental projection fell out-of-sync with the glamour's 'mouth' appearance to create said words.

"Slow down, man, before you work yourself up into a froth." He chided, smriking.

Slender took a breath and finally managed to sputter out, "How- h-how are you here?!"

Ollivander shrugged, "Oh, the Council knows how to contact me in an emergency. It hardly matters to me. It's rather nice to get away from the pressures of joining them on that awful panel. Even if I'm surrounded by these unimaginative wizards." He only briefly made a hint of a scowl before retaining composure.

"It's good money," He admitted, "And I have almost unlimited research time for my craft and it really _is_ a remarkable branch of study."

EJ seemed to perk up, "You've been researching magic?" He asked excitedly.

The wandmaker nodded, pleased at the young man's enthusiasm, "Of course, 'Mr. MacNeacail', of course. I have some research notes if you're interested."

At Jack's eager nod, he got up from his seat and searched the stacks before removing one, large, brown leather book from the very center (somehow without upsetting the others) and giving it to the eyeless doctor. As he handed it to the young man, he said, "Oh, do take off those sunglasses. It's so dim in here, it must be terrible eye strain."

The doctor nodded eagerly, completely forgetting his glamoured 'blindness' act, and opened the book and began reading through the milky film over his 'eyes'.

Ollivander clapped his hands, causing Jack to jerk his head upward, "I'll lend it to you. Right now I need to teach you a little about wands."

The three Hogwarts-students-to-be straightened to attention as the old man addressed them specifically, "Now, magic is an integral part of yourselves already. The wand is merely a focus point for it. For instance, think of it like a muggle lamp and flashlight. A lamp emits radially and sporadically, like with accidental magic. It's more generally emitted from _around_ the subject or source and simply affects whatever it can reach. Sometimes having a stronger reaction with the focal point of distress."

"So, like when he gets angry?" BEN interjected. Ollivander motioned for him to continue, smiling, "Whenever Harry gets angry or upset, everything around him gets affected. Lights, radios, TVs, it's like an EMP wave."

The old man nodded happily, "Exactly so! Unfocused magic emits outward like a lamp or wave and affects everything it touches while magic through a wand is like a flashlight. It's refracted in one beam in a single direction. Focused and directed with the wielder's intention and will. That is how magical energy becomes more controlled, more stable, and most importantly more functional for the wizard's purposes. Magic is powerful."

BEN frowned, "Yeah, and it _hurts_, too."

Ollivander winced in sympathy, "Ah, yes, I can see you're more energy-based in nature, so I would imagine a blast of unfocused magic to you must be painful." He frowned in thought, "Now just a moment, Diagon Alley has the highest concentration of magical energy in London. How in the Creator's Great Creation are you still functional, let alone conscious?"

Jack interjected, "It's a wave interference." Ollivander's eyes widened in eager interest. Jack picked up BEN's pendant from his chest without taking it off. "This crystal emits a wavelength similar to magic, but in an anti-wave to its natural frequency. Effectively, it cancels out the ambient magical waves around the wearer to tolerable levels."

"Ingenius!" The wandmaker exclaimed. "Taking magic's own basis and turning it against itself! Brilliant! Haha! You, my boy, are a natural researcher!"

EJ blushed faintly at the praise before the old man continued. "Now, a wand is constructed of three basic components: a handle, which is sometimes specially designed to channel energy directly from the skin of the wielder to the wand itself; a core, which is usually something from a magical creature or a body part that holds the most magical potential; and, finally, a casing which is usually wood that is magically treated, but metal has been used in the past. The wood keeps the fragile core safe, but also helps to direct the magic in a single direction.

He looked upwards in thought, "I seem to remember visiting a museum in muggle London once, many years ago. There was an exhibit on fiberglass. It caused refraction of light _within_ the fiber itself, preventing most of it from simply emitting from the material in-between. Fascinating material, I have a toy of it here."

He eagerly opened up a chest in the corner and rummaged through it deeper than the chest appeared to be before he pulled out a small, black cylinder about the size of a roll of quarters. On the top, was a large mass of clear fibers flaying out. He smiled as he brought it over and flipped it on. Instantly, the ends of the fibers glowed brightly while the remainder was relatively dark. "As you can see, none of the light emits from the length of the strand and only emits when there is no more fiberglass material to continue refracting it inside. Similarly with the treated wood, it refracts magical energy within itself until it emits out the end, as you'd expect with a wand."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Jack exclaimed, still looking at the glowing toy, "Magic doesn't let electronics work! How did you- I mean-"

Ollivander simply smiled and pulled open the casing, "I found that filed-down quartz crystals, treated with some moonlight in a solution of lavender and sage, are capable of storing magical energy. Of course, only if you have some to spare to charge it. Then, put it in a muggle device and you have a magic-proof battery!"

He tossed a spare quartz crystal to EJ who immediately started turning it over in his hands eagerly. The quartz was glowing an electric blue and Harry noticed Jack's hair stood a bit on-end from holding it. Ollivander nodded happily, "and the _best_ part. You don't have to be as finicky over which direction the crystal faces, like muggle batteries. I swear, I visited muggle London once and I could never figure out which way the batteries were supposed to go in those telly remote controls." He shook his head sadly, "So unnecessarily confusing."

He let Jack keep the crystal and went to put away the toy, "Mind you, those only work for simple tasks, such as weak lights or simple motors. More complex machines require a bit more than just a fancy battery, I'm afraid."

He sat back down and took a sip of tea, "Now, that's the basics of wand components. However, there is a legal aspect to wands as well. There is an enchantment on all wands sold by myself to the general public called the Trace."

Slender frowned in concern, "The Trace is a tracking spell that monitors if an underaged witch or wizard, that is to say under 17, performs magic. The Trace detects magic in the vicinity of the wand-bearer and reports that information directly to the British Ministry of Magic."

"How well does it trace?" Slenderman asked worriedly.

"Anywhere in the world." Ollivander replied solemnly, "They can trace exactly _where_ the wand was used and have aurors, or magical police, there in an instant."

Slender shook his head firmly, "This was a mistake, then. We can't afford to have that kind of danger threatening our security." The wards frowned dejectedly.

"Not necessarily," the old man replied, "While I am legally meant to apply the Trace to all wands that are sold up front in my shop." A crafty glint entered his pale eyes. "Which just means that these wands are going to be a bit different."

He walked straight to the storefront and returned with a single, slim black box. "Now, normally I draw this out. It's the highlight of my day to see and examine reactions between individuals' magic and the wands. However, with _three_ guests, all with special circumstances, I thought it might be good to hurry this along."

He took out a rich, deep red-brown wand from the box. "11 inches, Holly, with a Phoenix tail feather. I have it on good word that this will fit you."

He gave the instrument to Harry who instantly felt a strong connection and sudden warmth running through his very core. "Wow," He whispered.

Ollivander just grimaced like a painter and a mediocre work. "Yes, yes, it's a fit. The best fit I daresay you'll find among those up front." He sighed, "But it's ultimately such a weak connection in comparison to what it _could_ be."

He balled his fists in frustration before taking a moment to calm himself. "Dumbledore approached me ten years ago with this phoenix feather and suggested this exact combination. A mere week after the tragic deaths of Mr. Potter's parents, to be exact.

"Still," He continued, "This is the part where I say something along the effect of 'curious, curious'.

"But" He looked Slender dead in the eye, "It _is_ rather curious how Dumbledore knew that this wand- the only wand with the same core as the wand of Voldemort himself- would choose Harry."

The silence was deafening as the suspicions ran rampant. Ollivander cleared his throat, dispelling the miasma, "Now, this particular wand does, indeed, have the Trace, _but _-" He interjected, seeing Slender grow agitated, "I suggest you keep it for the sake of appearances. During breaks, I suggest you lend it to me. I'll hold onto it so no one can track you to your hideout."

Slender nodded at the suggestion, "Though, I am still concerned with Harry possessing a wand attributed to those men. The fact that there's the connection between Voldemort _and_ Dumbledore makes me uncomfortable."

Ollivander nodded, "I agree with you. It's unnerving how he knew that this combination would fit Harry so many years in advance. Even with the limited permutations of cores to woods, it's still a very slim chance."

Slender nodded. Toby frowned in confusion, "Why are cores limited? There are tons of magical monsters out there."

The ancient entity nodded, "The cores are limited to three types; Unicorn hair, Dragon heartstring, and Phoenix feathers. These are the only 'Ministry Approved' cores I am permitted to sell. As such, the cores which are the primary connection to the people can usually only get _close enough_."

He let out an honest snarl and wrung his hands. "Close enough! For the very essence of magical concentration! It should not simply be 'close enough', it should be in resonance with the witch or wizard's very soul!

"These wizards are utterly, profoundly lazy! They have no sense of creativity! Ingenuity! Discovery! Experimentation! Innovation! They are content to live out their dull, imagination-deprived lives without a thought in their heads!

"Even the self-proclaimed 'brainiest of them all' Ravenclaws rarely do anything but stick their noses in a book and horde information like a prize! They're walking, talking encyclopedias without a string to connect the pages together!

"These wizards have no drive for wandlore! They don't want to experiment; they have no interest in seeing alternatives, only in controlling whatever they _think_ they can. They just enter my shop to get their wand and never come back except when they break one of my beautiful creations or need one repaired!

"The point is, they are completely _boring_!"

He bitterly huffed and took a sip of tea in the tense silence after his rant. Finally, he let out a sigh, "I'm sorry," He said quietly. "I suppose I've just been meaning to get that off of my chest for quite some time."

He smiled faintly, "There are the occasional patrons who make it all the worthwhile, though. They're the 'tricky ones'." He said the last gleefully. "The ones whose magic is not as cut and dry as expected. The ones who take ages, going through almost every wand in my shop before finding the one that resonates with them, personally. It's always a pleasure to see a truly unique experience to find someone who resonates _only_ with that core and that wood."

The silence continued on for a moment before Slender spoke, "So, why simply give Harry that wand?"

The entity grinned excitedly, "Because like Hell am I allowing one of _those_ wands in the home of an old friend. No, no, no."

He got up and walked over to a single bookshelf. He tapped his wand three times on a decoration on the side which caused a loud click to be heard as the shelf swung open. "I experiment here, on my own time, in the privacy of my own laboratory. Please follow me."

The wandmaker eagerly led them down a passageway into the cellar. The room was spectacular. All around them were jars of organs labeled for thousands of different species, powders and crystals of gems and stones, hundreds of plants and fungi dried, pickled and growing on the shelves, insects pinned in display cases, and planks of wood labeled specifically for wands.

"Welcome to my laboratory!" He exclaimed cheerfully. "And here, we make our masterpiece! I'm not allowing one of those sub-par, tracked wands to be in the possession of a ward of my old friend."

He looked Harry over sternly and nodded before running around the shop with a tray, plucking materials off of the shelves and into the display in his hands. After a while of this, he presented the tray to the Boy Who Lived. "Now, Mr. Potter, I want you to close your eyes and _feel_ the objects in front of you. From your soul, these objects should resonate the strongest, but we're looking for _the_ strongest connection of them all."

Harry nodded and held his hand over the tray. Immediately, he felt a response to each one. Stronger than his phoenix wand. Ollivander was right, the connection he'd felt was immensely weak compared to the connection just from the cores alone. Still, he held out his hand and felt the pull of the strongest reagent. Interestingly, he felt two.

He drew his energy, trying to pull the materials into his palm. Ollivander gasped and rushed forward with some tweezers to pluck the two from the air as they hovered towards Harry's outstretched hand. He was smiling manically, "Remarkable! Simply Remarkable! _Two_ wand cores! Both in complete sync, but polar opposites! Oh, my boy, you have _so_ much to look forward to!"

He put the two cores on a sheet of gray paper. Against the backdrop, the two cores were shown to be a shiny, white strand of hair and a dark, black strand of hair. "A hair from the mane of a unicorn, a symbol of life and an absolute prevention from death, itself. Its blood will forcibly keep someone alive even inches from death. Then, a hair from the mane of a thestral, a symbol of death and it's affect on life. They can only be seen by those who have witnessed the death of a fellow human or being with a soul depart from this world."

He was giddy as he observed them, "Polar opposites, but in complete Balance." He looked up, bemusedly at Slenderman, "I don't suppose your philosophy had anything to do with that, hm?"

He then chose several blocks of wood and repeated the process of presenting the display to Harry for him to choose. The strongest wood connection was a particular block of wood with rich, brown-red streaks through it. The wandmaker breathed in amazement.

"That wood, Mr. Potter, is Elder." He said softly, "Its symbolism revolves around Judgment, Fate, Life in Death, and Death in Life. Yours is truly a remarkable destiny."

He took the three chosen objects and, in front of them, fashioned an empty wand from the Elder wood chosen. He walked to the worktable where what he did was obscured from view. A minute later, the entire workbench glowed a solid gold until it faded, leaving the room dim.

The ancient wandmaker reverently picked up the wand and turned back to the group solemnly. "This is, by far, one of the more remarkable creations I've ever made. And it gives me such pleasure to know it will be used properly. This isn't just an experiment. This will be a tool wielded by a powerful individual with a strong hand in the turning of time."

He held the wand out to Harry, who slowly reached out for it. Even from afar, he could feel the pull and connection between him and the instrument. He grasped the handle-

It felt like light liquefied was coursing through his veins. His magic latched onto the wand like it was more than just an instrument, like it was a second heart that had been missing for his entire life. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and more than a little awe-inspiring. The connection was forged and felt like, for once, he could _feel_ the very essence of the magic inside of him.

It was… incredible…

"Harry?"

He looked up at his foster family, seeing growing concern. He blinked and realized that he had tears streamed on his cheeks. He scrubbed furiously at them, blushing. "I'm fine, Slendy."

Ollivander smiled contentedly. "And _that_," he said softly, "is a properly matched wand."

He turned to Adrian and Nikolaus and looked at both intently. After a few uncomfortable moments, he seemed to start in realization, "Oh, my! A binding between life and death! How exciting!"

Nick's eyes widened, "You can tell that?"

"My boy," he said bemusedly, "I just looked at your friend's very _soul_ to match a wand to him. Naturally, I should think if someone were dead I'd notice immediately."

Nick conceded with a head bob before letting the man continue. "Now, because of your… condition, there are some complications. Normal wands or foci aren't as well in-tune with your souls because your souls are no longer considered 'living', rather undead, reanimated, or Returned.

"In short, you two are technically, clinically, legally, and by all religious standards… deceased." He stated simply. "But, that shouldn't be an issue… yes, yes, a good link between worlds should suffice. Yes, a resonance between both worlds for both aspects of the soul to channel its energy through!"

He grinned widely and began rushing about the lab space, gathering knarled bits and bobs of various materials and plants with blocks of wood to present to the pair. He gave Adrian the first tray and explained how to focus on the cores.

Adrian closed his eyes and held out his hand, focusing on the connections. After a few moments, three objects seemed to vibrate slightly. Ollivander picked one up with tweezers and noted how the air around the materials rippled slightly with heat. "Ah, curious."

He repeated it with the wood blocks and selected a pale white block of wood. Ollivander nodded in thought as he picked that up as well.

He placed the three on a metal pan and showed the core materials. "Now, Mr. Thresher, you have selected three objects; one representing Life and the realm of the Living, one representing Death and the realm of the Afterlife, and one representing a creature related in-between."

The wards stared at the pan, showing a black feather, a single black hair, and a red string of cartilage.

Ollivander pointed to each, "This is a feather of a raven, representing the aspect of Death. Ravens being commonly associated with death and, in some cultures, representing the spirits of the deceased or murdered."

He picked up the red piece of flesh, ignoring the gross, squishiness and red fluids, "This is a heartstring. And not a dragon heartstring, such as those up front, but a _human_ hearstring."

Adrian looked slightly nauseated. Ollivander waved it away, "No, no, it's not 'dark' as you'd imagine… well, not in _this_ particular case. It's actually a very good sign. The heartstring represents life, the heartbeat, and, most of all, love."

Nick and Harry choked on their tongues, suppressing the laughing fit. The others were, likewise, trying to suppress incredulous laughter. Jeff managed to cough out, "Love? I'm pretty sure Ay is as far away from _love_ as you can get."

Ollivander shrugged, "Perhaps he only appears that cold and holds love in his heart," More snickers ", or perhaps it was during his life."

Adrian stopped his embarrassed scowling and his eyes bored into the wandmaker's, "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's entirely possible that because this particular core resonated with yourself, more particularly your aspect of Life, is because during life you held a more romantic love for someone."

The amnesiac stepped closer, "What else does it say? Where was it? Who was it?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't go into specifics. Even then, it's just speculation." Ollivander frowned. "Still, this is your Life core." He set the gross stringy bit of heart on the pan and picked up the hair with tweezers.

"This is the Binding agent." He looked it over letting it gleam in the light, "A single hair from the tail of a Grimm. A remarkable spectral dog that haunts graveyards and shepherds the spirits of the dead to the Beyond. It's considered bad luck to see one, as wizards believe it's an omen of impending death. Perhaps so, perhaps the Grimm decides to 'shepherd' their soul a little early. Either way, these creatures are a solid binding between Life and Death."

He picked up the wood block, "This wood is rowan. It's a remarkable wood in that it's associated with working for spirits of the dead. Though, I suppose it is rather sensible. Your form is largely incorporeal in the proper sense so you qualify as a spirit, whereas your friend, Mr. Brahms, is actually corporeal with a reanimated body. Now," He clapped his hands together excitedly, "let's work a little magic, shall we?"

He took the pan to a small workbench, this time facing the group so they could see what happened.

He took out an odd-looking instrument that resembled three hooks twirled together. He placed the feather on one hook, the heartstring on the other hook, and the hair on the final hook. He set the other ends of the materials into a similar device mirroring the first. Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled the two further apart, making the hooks twirl the cores together quickly. The feather, hair, and heartstring melded together and glowed red as they elongated into one, single, long thread of crimson.

The wandmaker removed the thread from the instrument and snipped a length about a foot long. He then took an empty casing of rowan wood and snaked the thread through the wood expertly. He took out a different metal pan and a bottle. He poured the deep, red liquid into the pan and set the wand in the solution.

The scent of alcohol made their noses scrunch. Ollivander laughed, "Yes, it's wine. It's just some vintage, hand-pressed wine from the Isles of Greece, crafted by the ancient Winemakers of the Gods hidden among the mountains of Olympus." He waved away the looks of incredulity on the group's faces. "Oh, don't worry, it's a sickle a bottle in the Alley. It's the same as common brand-name wine at a muggle store. Though, it's _pure_ and holds certain magical properties."

He watched the wine soak into the wand, "In the ancient times, wine was offered as a sacrifice to the dead. This will serve as a congealing agent between the cores, helping to form an accepting bond between them. Ah!" He exclaimed as the wand glowed an ember-like orange. "It's done."

He picked up the wand from the solution and wiped it off with a cloth before presenting it to Adrian. The boy looked at it with skepticism before reaching out and touching it. Instantly, a small wisp of orange flame flew out and circled his him like a fiery canary bird before flaring and disappearing. He stared at the wand in amazement, breathing in awe. Ollivander smiled happily, "Another truly bonded wand."

He turned to Nikolaus, "And now, for you Mr. Brahms. Again, you will need a binding between Life and Death, but with something more associated with corporeal death, I see." He seemed to peer right through the undead corpse, before nodding thoughtfully, "Yes, yes, I see you have an affinity with insects. Naturally, I suppose worms, beetles, and larvae are strongly associated with a corpse, though not necessarily in the friendliest way."

He wandered around the room a bit more slowly, seeming to pick out several and place some back, muttering 'no, no, too incorporeal' before he finally decided on several and placed them on a tray before the young man. Nikolaus repeated the action his friends demonstrated, holding his hand out and feeling the connections. Finally, three objects on the tray seemed to glow in response; a flower, a bottle of powder, and a smaller vial of white dust.

Ollivander looked on in keen interest, "Excellent, excellent! Now, a wood."

He placed several blocks in front of the faux 11-year-old. Another moment allowed him to pick out a block of pale yellow wood. Ollivander nodded excitedly as he picked up that block, "Oh, wonderful!"

He presented the three cores and the wood on the tray before turning and looking up to Nick happily, "Yours are perhaps the most cohesive blend so far! Everything symbolically harmonizes."

He adjusted the tray in front of him and pointed out each, "The flower is a narcissus, or commonly called a daffodil. It's the Life core, associated with rebirth and new beginnings."

He picked up the jar of coarse, gray-white powder. "Now, this is the crushed powder of dried coffin fly larvae. This is most definitely your Death core. Coffin flies are tiny insects, capable of burrowing into the ground to reach the corpse and lay its eggs, hence the name 'coffin fly'."

He picked up the vial of fine, pure-white powder. "This is the dust from white moths' wings. This is your binding agent. Moths have been associated with death omens across thousands of cultures. However, in the Christian motifs, the pupae or cocoon state of a moth represents death. Meaning the moth that emerges represents the soul emerging from the confines of the mortal, or larval, state."

The old man finally picked up the block of wood, "And finally, the wood you have is yew. Yew is somewhat associated with darker aspects of death, but also rebirth and restoration."

He smiled, "As you can see, your motifs are largely correlated together in aspects of your rebirth and the insect's affects on the mortal remains of an individual after death."

He took the daffodil and cut off the shriveled flower head before splitting it vertically down the middle with a gleaming, silver knife like a vanilla bean pod. He shook out a handful of the gray powdered larvae and carefully poured it into the slit of the bean. He closed the stalk and then lightly coated it in the pearly, iridescent white dust.

Taking a different instrument, he crafted the prepared stalk into a single, light blue thread which he snaked through the yew wand casing. He poured another pan of wine and allowed the wand to soak before it glowed a vibrant, cobalt blue.

At last, the old man picked up the wand and presented it to Nick. As soon as he touched it, a smoky white image of a butterfly blossomed from the tip before fluttering its wings once and fading into wisps. Nick stared at the wand as he felt the connection, "Amazing," He whispered.

Ollivander beamed happily at the three magnificent creations he'd seen used and loved. "These wands are much more powerful than the wands you'll find in the front of my shop, so don't be startled by weaker responses from other students and, perhaps, try to play it off so you don't come off as overpowered."

He turned towards the large group, who watched the display avidly. "I'm afraid that's all. Let us return to the living area. Would anyone like some tea? I believe I have some of these delicious raspberry biscuits I bought from the wife of the trunk store owner."

Sally eagerly nodded and he chuckled as he led them back up to the magically enlarged table and brought out a tin of cookies with red jam in the middle and set the cast iron kettle on a stand in the center. This time, everyone was much more at ease and some took Slendy's lead and tried a cookie and the tea, which Ollivander stated was a calming blend of fennel and chamomile flower.

The three Hogwarts students showed everyone their wands up-close, Harry even experimentally waving it and accidentally upsetting a stack of books. Ollivander reassured him it was fine and simply fixed the stack with a wave of his own wand. "Though, I do recommend you not try any spells until you get to Hogwarts." He warned, seriously.

Harry nodded along with Nick and Adrian. At length Adrian asked something that had been burning in his mind. "Mr. Ollivander?" The man looked up from his tea, "When you said I loved someone, is there _anything_ you could tell me about it?"

The wandmaker set down his tea and peered at the boy with his moon-like eyes. He hummed thoughtfully. "I can't say for certain. Love is tricky, especially at your age."

"I'm actually around 15 or so." Adrian corrected, motioning to his altered appearance.

Ollivander smiled, "Yes, I know." Adrian started to speak, but the wandmaker held up a hand, "No, I do not know your exact age. I'm sorry. I'd tell you all that I can, but all that I see is what you already know. You are dead and cannot move on for an unknown reason, you have an affinity with fire, and you had some form of life you can't seem to remember. Aside from that, I'm afraid I can't help you much."

The corporeal wraith leaned back in his chair, dejectedly, and mumbled a 'thanks' to the old man. Ollivander sighed in sympathy. "Now, now, don't feel down about it. Love and life is about discovery and finding meaning with others. While I can't guarantee you will find it, just know that it does exist and may help."

"Any experience?" Jeff asked, grinning.

The old man surprised him, by returning the wily grin, "Now, young man, don't forget that even if I am ancient by all standards, I was young once, too."

He sat back, reflecting on an unseen memory, "The Sinastrias were a beautiful race. Completely made of _stardust itself_, drifting peacefully through time, space, and the cosmos… They're gone now… I loved one of them, her name is Anwen. I'm not sure where she is now…"

He trailed off, misty-eyed. After a minute, he loudly cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, a trip down memory lane is a rather long journey for me."

Slender spoke through the silence, "Researcher-"

"Oh, please no, just call me Garrick or Ollivander," the old entity requested.

"Very well, Mr. Ollivander, about your payment-?"

The wandmaker waved his hand dismissively, "No payment for a friend. The opportunity to craft a _true_ wand is more than reward enough. Though, I would appreciate a visit on occasion to see how well the wands hold up.

"It's not often you see a working combination between life and death. I'm interested to see how it turns out." He extracted a promise from them to visit or owl every so often.

He gave Eyeless Jack one last book, a thin blue book on the basics of wands and wandlore. EJ was excitedly skimming through it when Slender reminded him to put it away for appearances. The eyeless doctor blushed in embarrassment, before putting away the book, antsy to get an opportunity to start researching the books and the crystal.

Ollivander followed them to the door and before they opened it, returning to Diagon Alley, he addressed their guardian, "Slenderman, I need to tell you that I'm expected to contact Dumbledore to report the wand sold to Mr. Potter and the other two wards. Now-" He held up a hand, silencing the protest. "what I _will_ tell him, is that the Phoenix wand was accepted by Mr. Potter. I never said he'd use it." He winked, putting the taller entity at ease.

"Now, for Mr. Thresher and Mr. Brahms, you should refer to your wands as just 'heartstring' for Adrian, and 'feather' for Nikolaus, even if 'feather' is a bit of a stretch from moth wings. Just let people assume, you'll find that rather dreadfully common in the magical world." He sighed, "Still, it will work to our advantage this time. Now, goodbye, my friend."

He waved goodbye to them as they made their way through the droves of people in the Alley. He went swiftly to a fireplace in the corner and threw in some floo dust. "Albus Dumbledore's Office!" He called.

A moment later, Dumbledore's head appeared in the fire. "Ah, Garrick, good news, I presume?"

"The Phoenix combination made a connection with Mr. Potter." Ollivander assured him. Internally, he smiled. It _was_ technically true.

Dumbledore nodded happily, "Excellent, excellent, and the other two?"

"Their names are Nikolaus Brahms and Adrian Thresher and they received feather with yew and heartstring with rowan, respectively."

"Yew?" Dumbledore's voice wavered.

Ollivander resisted the urge to sigh, "Yes, Dumbledore, but might I remind you that plenty of wands I've sold have been yew wood and yielded great, powerful, and _good_ witches and wizards."

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore nodded acceptingly. "And how was Mr. Lindermann?"

The wandmaker acted puzzled, "Well, he seemed like a perfectly capable guardian to me. Why?"

"No reason, no reason," Dumbledore evaded, his eyes narrowing in thought. He returned his attention to the entity, "Thank you for telling me, Garrick."

"Of course, _Albus_."

The Headmaster frowned just a tad at the informal name before the floo was cut off and he disappeared from the fireplace.

Ollivander dusted his knees off and walked to the window at the head of the shop. He saw his old friend's tall form make its way through the crowded street back to the Cauldron. Many smaller forms sticking close and gliding through the masses.

"Good Luck," He said to the empty shop.

He flipped the small sign at the door from "Closed" to "Open" and stepped away.

He returned to the shadows and his form melted into them, waiting for the next patron to walk in to the silent, seemingly empty wand shop of Diagon Alley.

* * *

**AN: Those slightly confused on the references… know that John Hurt played Ollivander.**

**And even though he only had one episode in the entire series… that episode was _glorious_.**

**I wanted to at least say congratulations to Mr. Hurt for his successful pancreatic cancer treatment and we wish him and his wife, Anwen Rees-Myers, well.**

**The smoky butterfly was inspired by the Nightmare Before Christmas**

**An interesting science fact, the whole wave/anti-wave canceling each other out is an actual phenomenon with sound, light, and any kind of wave. It's how noise-cancelling headphones work. Look up "Wave Interference Water" for cool examples of water ripples doing this, also called "The Double Slit Experiment".**

**YouTube channel Veritasium uploaded a pretty popular video on this called "The Original Double Slit Experiment". (Not endorsing)**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**-Crow**


	25. Trains, Pains, and Reading Brains

**(Professor Farnsworth Voice): Good news, everyone!**

**I've updated!**

**(Normal AN voice): I have a hilarious new story, too! So recently, a random questionnaire appeared (a legitimate one, too) that asked "What is the best style of pasta?" It gave options like 'spaghetti', 'rigatoni', 'ravioli', etc. but also 'other' with a request to put something in the comment section.**

**So, I chose 'other' and commented "Creepy". :)**

**This chapter is a little longer. I initially was going to cut it off half-way through, but decided that it felt too awkward. So as an apology for taking so long to update; a long chapter! Yay!**

**I own nothing. Enjoy!  
**

**-Crow**

* * *

Horns blared. People mulled about seemingly random, but with determined time-set schedules in mind. Men in uniforms directed people about the busy platforms at Kings Cross Station. Trams pulled in and out on a regular basis, carrying hundreds of people across the country.

Another busy morning at Kings Cross Platforms 9 and 10.

As such, the lone figure leaning against the wall partition between the two, partially hidden in a shadow, was almost completely unnoticed. He pressed himself against the wall to keep as out of the way as possible from the flow of people moving around him. He had his hoodie over his head, covering his face from the occasional sneering businessman, grumbling about lay-a-bouts and lazy teenagers, as well as the occasional old woman calling him a hooligan for loitering.

He ignored them for the most part, only sneering back at a particularly loud, grumbling CEO. Whenever a constable came over to try to detain him for loitering, he'd seem to slip away each time unnoticed. Then, almost as soon as the constable was far enough away, the teenager would reappear.

After three times of doing this, the man took to patrolling that spot and watching it more carefully, only to find the figure across the platform and having to rush to the other side before he'd mysteriously vanish again to the other side.

Jeff snickered as the constable threw down his hat in frustration. The man was stuck on Platform 7 after trying to tail him and noticing his white hoodie leaning against the wall again all the way on Platform 9. Then, naturally, two trains pulled in on Platforms 7 and 8 and the constable was lost in the large crowd of people all rushing to get off and on at once.

Poor bastard never stood a chance.

So, Jeff just kept leaning against the partition, eyes surveying everything… searching for anything out of the ordinary.

"-packed with muggles, of course."

Muggles?

His ears perked up and his head swiveled under the hood to see a huge group of people, a family, probably, with flaming red hair that he'd swear was dyed if not for the plump woman leading them having the same colored hair, but a very no-nonsense look to her that suggested she'd never approve of hair dye like that.

He took in the group more carefully. There was one mother, four boys, and a girl. 'Big family,' He thought.

The woman was short and plump with careworn lines and a kind of sternness as well. She seemed to be shepherding the entire group by herself and had her daughter's hand firmly in her own.

The oldest boy looked about 15, maybe 16 and held his head high with an almost arrogant pomp to it. The next two were maybe 13 and completely identical twins. They seemed to have a permanent smirk like some huge inside joke was currently happening around them or there was residual laughter from a particular prank they'd pulled. Their eyes had the same mischievous spark that they'd come to recognize in LJ whenever he had a 'surprise' set up.

The last boy was gangly and tall with so many freckles that an oncologist would probably flip if he walked in the office. Despite the height, he seemed about Harry's age, just pushing the cusp of puberty with the same awkward walk that Nick was adjusting to after his perma-glamour incident.

All of the boys had large baggage carts with two or three trunks stacked on top of one another, but the oldest boy had a gray-feathered, tired-looking owl hooting in the cage on top.

Noticing the owl, he discretely moved with the group weaving through the crowd. He stuck to the sidelines, allowing him to slip past the rush of people a lot faster than the family stuck in the middle of it. He kept listening in to their conversation.

"Now, what's the platform number?"

"Nine and three-quarters," said the girl with exasperation, "Mum, can't I go-?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet." Jeff's glamoured eyes narrowed as opposed to his real, shriveled eyelids. They weren't exactly being subtle on the whole 'platform 9 ¾' thingy. Heck, several of the businessmen overheard the girl's high-pitched whine and looked directly at the conspicuous family of redheads. He heard a passing suit mumble confusedly 'Nine and three-quarters? Absolutely barmy.'

Slendy and that McGonagall woman said these people were sticklers for secrecy. You'd think these people would know that with three older kids already in Hogwarts… or at least, he assumed from the trunks and age.

The woman stopped at a brick archway between the platforms with few people sticking around. "Alright, Percy, you go first."

The oldest boy pushed his cart in line with the archway and began running at ramming speed towards the brick wall. Suddenly, a crowd of tourists walked right between his view of the eminent crash and he scowled, wanting to see what would happen. The last tourist walked away, camera clicking noisily and the teenaged killer got a look at the area again.

There was an undamaged archway with no bloody, bruised teenager moaning on the ground by scattered clothes and bags. And, of course, no resounding crash echoing through the platform.

He cursed those stupid tourists, all of whom were completely unaware of the murderous glare trained on them. Jeff tore his eyes away to carefully watch what happened next.

"Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," Said Twin 1, "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell_ I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear." She said tiredly.

Twin 1 lined himself up with the wall while Twin 2 was right behind. Just before breaking into a run, Twin 1 turned to her and grinned, "Only joking, I am Fred."

He walked towards the platform, with Twin 2 running just behind him. Jeff ignored the sudden, odd urge to look away or blink despite not having eyelids.

Then, the two twins moved _through_ the wall, like a holographic illusion with a more substantial appearance. Jeff's glamour allowed a grin reminiscent of the carved one, "Bingo."

Then, the son slowly walked up to the spot without his brothers' sense of urgency. The mother, likewise, wasn't ushering him forward, instead seeming to look around the thinning crowd around them. Her lips pursed in serious worry. "He ought to be here," he heard her mumble quietly.

They stood like that for almost an entire minute, the girl also beginning to look around anxiously. Finally, the woman looked up at the clock and motioned for her son to go through. He disappeared through the wall and with one final glance about, she followed to.

Jeff frowned in thought. 'That was… weird.'

He smirked as the constable began rushing through the crowd towards his position. By the time the man go to the spot, he'd disappeared… and made sure he was seen one last time on the platform walkway three rows down before making his way back to Slender.

* * *

"Slendy, I'm boooored." Sally whined.

"Sally." Slender warned quietly, nodding to the people milling around them.

Sally started, realizing the name slip. She thought for a moment before grinning and putting on her most 'innocent' face. "Daddy, I'm booooored." Slender took a deep breath, ignoring the snickers from the other wards around him. The term was equally unpreferable.

"Just call me Solomon or Mr. Lindermann, Sally. And do _try_ to remember. This is a covert operation we're pulling." He said tightly. Sally sighed and nodded, returning to kicking her feet rhythmically on the bench.

They were waiting at the platform, having gotten up early to account for the British time shift. Slender had personally asked Jeff to come along at such an ungodly hour because he was their best reconnaissance. Jeff, unwilling to sleep just to get up so early, compromised to staying up all night with the help of three cans of Monster and spending almost all night playing a video game in the living room (to BEN's envy).

Sally and Toby tagged along because they were eager to see the train for themselves and were willing to set alarms for it. EJ was also interested, but was so tired and out-of-it from studying Ollivander's materials for the past week that he couldn't be bothered to wake up. Slender warned him that if that were the case, they leave him, so they did. Smile couldn't be brought because a dog would complicate reconnaissance and, plus, train stations tended to be finicky about dogs on or off leashes.

Nick, Adrian, and Harry were tapping the handles to their luggage trolleys anxiously as the seconds ticked closer and closer to 11:00.

"What if we miss the train?" Harry asked anxiously.

Slender shrugged, "Then we send the messenger bird to Dumbledore explaining what happened."

Ollivander had persuaded McGonagall to leave through some unknown means (probably magic), but in the process of her hurriedly leaving, he only managed to gather that the platform was 9 and 3/4, it left at 11:00 in King's Cross, but naturally she never said where it'd be.

Jeff was sent to scope out the area around platforms 9 and 10 (the most probable location of the place "in-between") for suspicious activity or unusual people using hidden entrances or some such method to get to this mysterious train.

There was an incoherent whisper of wind as Jeff used a hidden, temporary, short-range Slender Port symbol to appear in the shadowy area just behind them. Sally and Toby jumped up from their seats, "Finally!" She exclaimed.

"I found it." Jeff stated simply.

Slenderman sighed in relief before checking his watch; 10:45. Cutting it close, "Excellent. Now how do we get through?"

Jeff grinned.

* * *

The disguised killer led them through the crowd on Platforms 9 and 10 quickly. Finally, he stopped at the particular arch he'd seen the family use. "Okay, we're here."

Nick, Adrian, and Harry huffed as they caught up, pushing their heavy loads in front of them. They looked up at Jeff who was just pointing to the wall behind him. The teen killer was grinning broadly, "Just take a running start straight at the wall and you get across to your train."

The three students-to-be stared incomprehensibly at the wall. "You expect us to just _run_ straight into a wall?" Adrian asked.

"Yep."

"And this isn't a joke?" Nick questioned seriously.

"Nope."

"Prank?"

"Nope."

"Attempt to sucker us into doing something boneheaded?"

"Not as far as you know." Jeff answered smugly.

Harry sighed. Jeff was not making this easy. "I'll go first." He offered.

Jeff stood out of the way and let him have a clear shot straight at the wall. Slender, Adrian, Nick, and the others looked on, half wondering if it would work, half doubting the teen.

Harry pushed forward, the wheels on the cart slowly rotating. He got closer and the cart gained momentum. He kept running, the cart was unstoppable now- save for a jarring impact. Point of no return.

The bricks blurred into a tunnel view. He screwed his eyes shut.

…

…

"Watch it!"

He opened his eyes and swerved to miss someone's luggage cart, digging his heels into the ground to slow the cart to a stop. He stood there, huffing at the close call and looking back, he saw an older teen in black robes protectively checking his luggage cart before turning to Harry.

He looked up and down the boy and his anger dissipated to a wry smile. "First year?"

Harry nodded. "And I'm guessing muggleborn?" Harry half-nodded. The older boy sighed, "Well, next year, keep your eyes open and don't keep running after you hit the barrier, you'll bowl someone over."

"Sorry." Harry mumbled. The older boy nodded and took hold of his cart and started pushing it-

-narrowly missing being run over by Nikolaus and his tower of trunks. Nick had his eyes shut as he exit and opened them when he didn't feel the impact. When he saw the crowd of students on the other side, he panicked and started stumbling to a stop, clumsily trying to break his momentum.

As such, his careening cart almost slammed into a poor, round-faced boy on all fours on the ground. Still, the awkward landing caused the top trunk and Hedwig's cage to fall off the tower and Nick to fall to the ground.

Harry hurried over and helped him up, along with soothing a ruffled and irate Hedwig. Thankfully, the clasps on the trunk held and nothing spilled out to pick up.

"Neville!"

A stern-faced old woman in dark brown robes with a witch's hat decorated with a full-sized stuffed vulture walked over and frowned. "Neville, just what happened?"

The boy, Neville, stammered, "I- I'm sorry, gran- er, grandmother, I was looking for Trevor."

"Oh, _Neville_. Lost it again?" She said, exasperated. He meekly nodded as she ushered him away, leaving Nick to dust himself off. Harry and he shared a glance before they nonverbally agreed to just wait for Adrian and get on the train.

Adrian came into view, coming to a full, controlled stop with his eyes open as he walked out. He noticed their looks of slight envy and gave a tiny smirk while pushing his cart along towards them.

Moments later, Slender, Jeff, Sally, and Toby followed through. Sally and Toby were starry-eyed at the sight of the vintage, scarlet train straight out of a storybook. They were amazed by the crowd, too. Not human crowds, but wizard crowds. People in black robes drifted around, talking to parents. Luggage was being levitated by wands (from parents) onto the train. Tiny wizzbangs were set off here and there. Owls and cats roamed randomly from their cages.

"So cool." Toby murmured, watching a sparking wisp, launched by some upper years, fly about on its own before fading to nothingness.

One boy with dreadlocks had a box in his hand with a large, hairy leg poking out from it. Boys looked at it curiously while girls mostly screeched at it to go away.

Slendy coughed uncomfortably. The heavy smoky-steam combination reminded the entity of the days of Victorian London's coal-fed smog. He turned to the three students also gawking in amazement at the impressive sight. "Well, you three ought to find a compartment soon, but I want to talk to you for a moment."

He brought out something in a case he'd brought with him. "This used to be mine and until we can figure out how to adapt a CD player or radio, I figure it would be good as a pastime. It's just been in the attic for years, but the cylinders are still good."

He opened the case and showed them a folded-away wind-up phonograph with a small, bronze horn. Also in the case were about 20 brass cylinders neatly labeled and in small cases. Harry picked one up and read 'Beethoven's Seventh Symphony' on the tiny label. Adrian smiled, reading another cylinder of Liszt's works "Cool." He murmured.

"And Harry," He said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a gray-white stone with a slender marking burnt into it. "This is a tracking stone. I sometimes give them to Masky or Hoodie to set up a covert teleportation spot where they travel. I'll know the moment you set it down and be able to travel there momentarily to set up more permanent Ports."

Harry nodded solemnly, tucking the stone in his own pocket. He smiled up at his guardian, "Bye Mr. Lindermann, I'll see you over break."

Slender gave a small chuckle, "Well, perhaps not."

Harry frowned at the odd statement, but before he could talk, a whistle sounded for all stragglers to start boarding. He, Adrian, and Nick all hurried over and started loading their luggage onto one of the cars. Slender took the carts to return them back on the muggle side of the platform. They found an empty compartment in the car and hurried in, opening the window and waving out to the others.

The train suddenly jerked forward and slowly chugged as the train gained momentum. Kids waved out the windows to the parents lined up tearfully on the platform, waving handkerchiefs and watching their children go off to school for the next few months. A lot of 'be sure to write!' was heard through the din.

When the train burst from the dim platform into the late summer sunlight. Harry sent a wide grin to Nick who returned it while Adrian just had a small smile, but it was more than he usually sent.

They were finally going to Hogwarts.

* * *

A few minutes in, they'd just left London and approached the countryside. Harry already settled in for a nap (they got up extra early for the time shift, after all) while Adrian contentedly started reading a book and Nick let Hedwig out and alternatively watched her preen herself and watched the passing houses and trees out the car window.

Their compartment door opened suddenly and a gangly, redheaded boy poked his head in, "Exc-"

"Sh!" Adrian hushed, motioning towards Harry's sleeping form. The boy was turned away from the door and huddled into himself, so his face was almost entirely obscured.

The boy frowned, trying to get a better look at the boy he couldn't see the face of before he caught the black-haired-boy narrowing his eyes in suspicion and had to turn his attention back to him. He spoke slightly softer. "Er, I heard Harry Potter was supposed to be on the train this year. Have you seen him?"

"No." Adrian lied smoothly. Nick glanced over, but mostly preoccupied himself with watching Hedwig ruffle her feathers clean on the luggage tray.

The boy sent another look at the unknown boy in the corner, "I don't suppose you know if that's him, do you?" In response, Adrian shrugged. Undeterred, the redhead spoke louder. "Oi, a-are you Harry Potter?"

The unknown boy shuffled his arms, burrowing deeper into himself and away from light and noise. The boy kept trying. "Name's Ron. Ron Weasley."

His persistence got him an annoyed groan muffled by a sleeve. Ron began getting irritated, "Well, are you?"

The figure (who was Harry), was now awake, pretending to sleep, and _very_ tempted to pull out one of the throwing knives to get rid of the pig headed boy permanently. But, he refrained.

"Oi, are you listening?!"

Barely.

"Can you not?" Nick finally spoke. "He's obviously not and you're just annoying him _and_ us, for that matter."

Ron sneered, hearing the American accent, "Yeah, like Harry Potter's going to hang about with a foreigner like you."

Nick's eyebrows raised into his hairline as the boy slammed the sliding door shut and continued stalking down the train compartments. When the footsteps faded away, Harry sat up and shot a glare in the direction of the redhead. "Annoying prick."

Adrian nodded in agreement. Nick huffed angrily, "I know America's supposedly really against racism, sexism, and all those other stupid '-isms', but it really bites being on the receiving end of something like that."

"Welcome to Wizarding Britain," Adrian remarked, "We've got an entire year to make our impressions."

Nick's eyes brightened, "Hey! There's an idea to blend in! Impressions! 'ello govna, care for a spot o' tea 'fore I give you a jolly good shoe-shine."

Harry was sent into rolling laughter, "Y-you're h-h-horrible. Ahaha!"

Nick continued pursing his lips and holding an imaginary monocle until a woman knocked on the frosted glass pane to their compartment. They opened it and she smiled in on them, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

She showed them the various Wizarding candies available and they asked her questions about them, what they were like, and so forth. She was happy to answer them, even give a few recommendations. They bought a bit of everything and Harry paid with a small coin purse of wizard money.

They tried a little of everything. The chocolate frog proved surprising when they opened it and the candy croaked at them and almost hopped out of the package. They had conflictions about eating it until Nick accidentally held it too long and it started melting, resulting in the frog to stop acting like a frog and more like a rapidly-melting collection of chocolate.

The undead corpse was brave enough to try it and informed the others that it tasted just like normal Hershey's chocolate. He wiped his hands off with a napkin and they experimented with a few others, finding that the second any part of the chocolate was broken, the frog stopped croaking and moving. They resolved to keep one or two in their bags for later.

They brought out the beans which came with the cart-witch's warning that they _meant_ every flavor. Adrian proclaimed he had the 'Luck of the Bean' after seven tries yielded buttered popcorn, cotton candy, strawberry, lime, pina colada, chocolate, and peppermint while Nick wound up with liver, sprouts, spinach, earwax, catfish, sauerkraut, and bacon (which he angrily declared was absolutely disgusting on anything besides pure, real bacon).

They were munching on some Licorice Wands, which was just a normal licorice stick (Nick was even happy they had the cherry-flavored Twizzler kind of "licorice" instead of the traditional, bitter black kind Adrian was eating), when the compartment door knocked and they opened it to see the round-faced boy there, "Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?"

They shook their heads and he sighed in frustration and wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Harry assured him. The boy half-heartedly nodded.

"I guess, well if you find him…" He shut the compartment while softly mumbling the finale of the sentence. Then, he left down the hall in continued pursuit.

"Poor kid," Nick commented, "I mean I almost killed him right off the bat. Then, he's got his Granny out there and she seemed like a real piece of work. Finally, he's got all the backbone of a snail. He's even got a mental shell to stick himself in."

Adrian nodded, "Confidence is an important aspect in life. He'll find his toad eventually."

"Speaking of," Nick continued, "Where's your pet? I mean, I got Hedwig; Harry's got BRVR… hey! You could get a toad, too, and round it all out!"

Adrian grimaced, "Yech, no. I'd rather not hold onto a pimply, toxic, pus-filled toad thank-you-very-much. Besides, Slender gave me something."

He pulled out a mess of wires from his trunk and opened it into a collapsible, full-sized wire cage. Nick raised an eyebrow and nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, yes, _Birdicus Imaginationis_, the rarest sight to _not_ behold."

Adrian gave a withered glare before sending out a low whistle. The compartment darkened as a shadow coalesced on the wall, erupting into a messenger bird which phased through the wire mesh onto the perch. Hedwig hooted in alarm from her own cage and stared at the new bird with wide, gold eyes.

"Slender authorized me to have a messenger bird. He told the Department handling these guys I'd be on an extended duty out of standard communication range and they allowed me to keep one." Adrian explained. "It's pretty self-sustaining, so I don't need to feed it. It'll just hang out with the rest of the owls over the school year."

Hedwig was still hooting nervously at the new creature. Nick hummed and turned to Harry, "I think it'd be good to bring out BRVR, too. Get them familiar with each other."

Harry looked between the glaring, black bird-creature and the terrified, white owl and nodded. "Yeah, probably," He set his head between the messenger bird and Hedwig. "Hey, girl. Don't worry, this guy's not going to hurt you. Okay? I'm bringing out someone else, he's also not going to hurt you."

Hedwig looked on in trepidation, seemingly understanding the entire conversation as Harry slowly reached for his backpack and opened the flap to nudge BRVR sleeping in a pile of clothes. The cat-like mouse opened a bleary eye and Harry nudged it again. It tiredly peeped its head out of the flap and took in the change of scenery.

"BRVR," Harry began, "This is Hedwig and… er… Ay, what's the bird's name?"

The spirit looked at the creature for a minute before nodding with a decision, "Scath. It means shadow in old Irish."

Harry shrugged, "Okay. BRVR, these are Hedwig and Scath. They'll be joining us at Hogwarts. Hedwig, these are Scath and BRVR. And they're _not going to hurt you_. Right?"

BRVR eyed the owl, before seeing his new-brother's stern expression. He decided owl wouldn't be on the menu anytime soon. "Pika-chu!"

Harry nodded and turned with the same expression to the shadow bird which just gave a loud 'caw!' in response. Harry took it as a 'yes'.

"Hey, Harry," Nick commented, frowning. "Where's BRVR's pendant thingy. Won't all the magic hurt him?"

The black-haired wizard shook his head, "BRVR's never seemed to be affected by my magical outbursts like BEN or Smile. Slender thinks it's because I used magic when he was brought out into the world, so he's already made of the stuff. We're pretty sure he'll be okay." He gave the pokemon a small pat on the head and it squeaked happily.

BRVR popped his head back into the comfy backpack to resume his cat nap. Just as he did so, the compartment door slid open again without warning and a bushy-haired girl looked in before speaking authoritatively, "Have any of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one." She gestured to the boy behind her, awkwardly waving to the occupants.

"Sorry, no." Harry replied.

She was about to close the door when she noticed the dark, shadowy bird glaring at her with ruby-red eyes. "What sort of creature is that?" She asked curiously. "I've read all about magical creatures, but none of the books talk about something like that."

Adrian shrugged, "It's not too well known."

"Well I suspect we'll learn an awful lot more about magic and maybe your bird as well when we arrive at Hogwarts. I've read _Hogwarts: A History_ several times now and they have the largest collection of books available in all of Wizarding Britain." Adrian's eyes sparked with interest, but the girl prattled on without pause, "Of course, I hope to learn more spells than the ones at Diagon Alley. I've tried a few simple ones just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course. I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course. I feel like I'll be at such an academic disadvantage, being raised nonmagically. I hope I won't fall too far behind. My name is Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

The occupants of the room (even the avian companions) all blinked, thoroughly stunned, at the steady, continuous stream of words seemingly told without one pause, break for breath, or even coherent thread of topic choice. Even Neville seemed intimidated just from being in the vicinity of the girl's speech.

"Er, I'm Nikolaus Brahms." Nick stated.

"Adrian Thresher."

"I'm Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" Hermione asked interestedly, "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

Harry fought the smirk, "Really? You know _everything_ about me?"

"Of course, it's all in the history books. How you defeated Voldemort, how you survived the Killing Curse, your secret training, your disappearance from Wizarding Britain, and a lot of theories on where you'd gone." The girl stated.

Harry hummed noncommittally. Secret training? Partially true, but not in the way she probably thought it was. The girl blinked in the ensuing silence before filling it again with nervous chatter, "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

She left without another word, taking the poor boy with her and not even waiting for the answer. Nick huffed in mock exhaustion, "Jeez, where does she keep all that air? I was thinking she'd pass out on the floor in the middle of that montage."

"She's nervous." Adrian stated, "You could tell she was trying to get things off of her mind, but since there's so much to talk about, it all kind of spilled out all at once."

Harry nodded, "So, what houses _do_ you think you'll be in? Professor McGonagall said Gryffindor for the courageous, Hufflepuff for the loyal and hardworking, Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious, and Ravenclaw for the smart."

Nick shrugged, "No clue. They'll decide that at Hogwarts, probably. It sounds like we don't get to really just choose, and is more of an assigned thing."

"I'd like Ravenclaw, then. It sounds interesting." Adrian said, tapping at the book.

"I don't know." Harry admitted, "Gryffindor sounded cool from McGonagall's speech, but it's full of goody-two-shoes "Light" people. Slendy said they didn't look too fondly on murder."

Adrian smirked, "Well, to be fair, not many cultures do."

"Yeah, but here it's considered pretty 'Dark' by automatic assumption that the person who murdered the other is Evil, capital E. There's at least some leeway with human society."

After barely two minutes, the door slid open again without warning. Harry considered that if this was a recurring theme, it might be wise to put a lock of some sort on the door to keep it from sliding open while they're changing. Three boys entered, making the compartment seem a bit cramped.

Flanked by two large boys, the pale-faced boy from Madame Malkin's looked at the trio before addressing Harry specifically, "Is it true? They're saying down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, "How are people saying that already?"

"Some mud- er, muggleborn girl won't stop talking to everyone she finds," the boy drawled. "Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," He motioned to the two large, intimidating, and slightly grotesque boys at his side. Harry decided after some consideration, they seemed almost like gorillas with a little less hair. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

They glanced between each other before Harry turned and nodded to the boy, "Alright, then."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, seeing the other two, "Hang on, you three were at Madame Malkin's."

A cautious nod. "So, since you're adopted, I'm guessing you're muggleborns then?" He sneered at Nick and Adrian. The two didn't respond, instead, just coldly looking at him. "You'll soon find out that some Wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake. Harry's mouth quirked down, but resumed its impassiveness. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't insult my brothers."

Malfoy seemed taken aback, "Brothers?! They're mudbloods!" He exclaimed.

Here, their eyes hardened at the seeming insult. Harry spoke again, "They're my foster brothers. We have the same guardian and I'd still appreciate it if you didn't insult them."

Malfoy's face took on a pink tinge. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They-"

"CAW! CAW!"

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle panicked as the shadowy bird suddenly appeared in front of them and began mercilessly pecking any bit of exposed flesh it could reach. Each time one of the large goons tried swatting at it, the bird phased through their hands and pecked harder. Finally, they stumbled back out of the compartment and started running away, hands over their heads as the bird gave a last few pecks and returned to perching on top of its cage instead of inside.

Adrian grinned, "Good boy, Scath." He stroked the feathers approvingly and the bird let out a happy 'caw' before flying about the cabin and phasing back through the cage bars.

The compartment door slid open unannounced once more. Harry angrily rounded on it, "What now?"

The bushy-haired girl looked affronted for a second before composing herself, "I'm asking questions here. What _has_ been going on? Three boys just ran down the hallway covered in cuts! Fighting this early will get you in trouble before we even get there!"

Adrian smiled calmly, "We didn't fight them. I'm afraid Scath didn't like them much when they barged into our cabin. He seems to be a good judge of character." He raised the caged bird to emphasize who/what he was talking about.

Hermione met the unnerving glare of the dark bird before clearing her throat, "Well, you three had better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there."

"Thank you," Harry said sticking a hand out to block the door before she could close it. "We'll be changing now. Three _almost naked_ boys, just stripping down."

The girl blushed and stammered, "W-wh-why on _Earth_ are you telling me this!" She said, affronted.

"So you'll stop opening doors without knocking!" Harry asserted angrily. Closing the door firmly in her abashed face and, finally finding a latch at the top, locked it to give them some privacy. At Nick and Adrian's bemused snickers, he defended himself, "Well it's true. That's, what, the fifth time this train ride someone's just _opened_ the compartment door. The candy lady and that Neville kid were polite enough to knock and wait for _us_ to open it."

They nodded in agreement and simply started changing into their long, black robes. A voice echoed through the train on a magical PA system announcing they'd be at the station in five minutes and to leave their luggage. Adrian collapsed the birdcage and Scath vanished in smoke as it went off to… wherever those birds go.

They finally reached the station and the multitude of students onboard pushed their way out. The small platform of Hogwarts was dark and narrow, but students kept filing down one line towards a couple of houses.

In the distance, a lamp came bobbing through the darkness, far above the heads of most of the seventh years. It was accompanied by a loud voice shouting, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

They made their way through the throng of people, Harry ducking low to avoid Hagrid's search for him. Hagrid eventually led the group of first years towards a sloping path that was narrow, covered in smoothed stones, and dark. People were slipping and stumbling as they walked around on the pathway. No one spoke, save for Neville softly sniffing over his lost toad.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called back. "Jus' round this bend here."

The path opened to the edge of an enormous lake. The pale moonlight glittered across the surface in a broken reflection. Backlit by the moon was an enormous castle on the other side of the vast lake. It was perched high on top of a mountain, windows sparkling like the stars around it, turrets and towers spiking from it like stalagmites in a cave.

They reached the smoothed-out black stones of the shores where an army of small boats were silently bobbing just at the edge of the water. "No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid shouted over the excited 'oohs' and 'ahhs'.

Adrian, Nikolaus, Harry, and a shy-looking girl went into one boat together. The girl didn't say much and was instead drinking in the sight of the castle across the lake. Adrian nudged Harry and mouthed 'stone'. Harry understood and took the white stone out of his pocket.

"Everyone in? Right then, FORWARD!"

The boats jerked and started drifting from shore. Harry quickly threw the stone where it clattered across the rocky shores and settled in the middle of the beach. The lanterns at the front of the boats drifted further and further, making it harder to make out the shore, but Harry could see the stone just barely glow a faint purple.

* * *

Slenderman appeared in a sudden swirl of black smoke at the edge of a picturesque castle over a lake. He looked around, seeing the white stone blindingly reflecting moonlight amongst the darkly shimmering wet, black stones on the shore. He picked it up with his hand and noted the location in his mind.

He looked out over the lake as several lanterns bobbed in the distance, he could make out tiny figures (and the large figure of that Hagrid man) on the boats attached to the lanterns. Just behind it was the imposing silhouette of Hogwarts, looming over the lake, backlit by the moon.

He walked towards one of the many trees just up against the edge of the lake crouched down. Using his finger, a white point appeared on the end of it like a fingernail and he started engraving into the base of the tree, infusing some Sigma as he went along. In seconds, a permanent Operator Symbol was scorched into the inconspicuous tree.

He looked back at the lake and smirked. He took out another stone from his pocket with a different symbol etched into it and tossed it into the lake. It bubbled where it sank into the water and each white bubble that broke the surface brought a large waft of fog. Soon, the fog began to creep along the lake surface towards the boats.

He vaguely remembered his brother stating 'presentation is everything' and couldn't help but chuckle as he vanished into black smoke as the fog reached the boats.

* * *

The boats were quietly drifting across the glass-like surface of the lake. Harry, Adrian, and Nick noticed the small chill seeping through their robes and glanced around at the low-hanging fog spreading around them. Whispers started up at the fog's sudden appearance.

Soon, a soft voice drifted across the lake. A high-pitched children's French song was softly echoing over the lake. Some students were smiling, clearly enjoying the spooky atmosphere, purebloods frowned at how their parents never mentioned a ghost like that. Others, were clearly trying their hardest not to wet themselves, such as Neville or the shy girl next to them.

Slender's trio silently smirked at one another, recognizing Sally's lullaby for her dolls. It was haunting, creepy, and seemingly tuneless with pretty dark words (if deciphered from French, the lyrics were about silence, quiet, escape, and arguably a reference to a guillotine execution). Hermione was pale-faced as her years of French class took over and the words made sense to her.

"Heads down!" Hagrid's voice broke the spell and as they approached a wide curtain of dangling ivy, he leaned down so his head wouldn't hit the top of the cavern. He was practically alone since his abnormal height caused the problem of hitting his head.

They drifted through the cavern, escaping the fog's creeping tendrils as they landed on another rocky shore by a stone passageway leading under the castle. "Oy, you there! Is this your toad?"

Neville gleefully took Trevor and put him in his pocket. They walked through the underground passageway until it led upwards to an enormous courtyard just by the largest tower spiring into the midnight sky.

They approached a heavy set of iron doors. Hagrid confirmed they were all there and knocked on the door three times.

The doors opened grandly, showing a large entrance hall with sconces providing flickering light to showcase the entirety of its regal appearance. They approached a set of marble stairs where Professor McGonagall stood, waiting.

Adrian, Harry, and Nick all shifted their eyes behind the stern witch, broad smiles matching the ones in the background.

* * *

Ron scowled. He'd been forced to sit with his brothers since he couldn't follow through with his mother's advice to find Harry Potter on the train. They even left _early_ so they would have a better chance of finding him after Dumbledore told them he'd likely be lost on Platforms 9 and 10.

He'd guess the unknown boy who was sleeping in the compartment with the foreigner kid might have been the Boy-Who-Lived, but he never found out after he left to keep searching and, in the end, just couldn't really be bothered after the sweets cart came by his brothers' car. After that, it was drowned out in glorious pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes.

The way he figured, it didn't matter. Harry Potter would make his way to Gryffindor (along with himself) and he'd have seven years to talk to him, befriend him, and subsequently become co-head of the Gryffindor hierarchy with him. What's a couple hours on the first train ride compared to that?

They made it across the lake to the impressive entrance hall where that enormous man, Hagrid, led them to the marble steps up to the Great Hall. A stern-faced witch in emerald green robes stood at the base, watching them like a hawk. Behind her was an enormous group of people.

The smallest one, a girl in a pink dress, was excitedly waving to somebody in the crowd, but he couldn't see exactly who.

There were four older boys, maybe 15 to 17 years old. One was wearing black, muggle sunglasses despite it being night with some really stupid-looking cane in his hand that didn't look strong enough to lean on. Another had a huge black and white dog on a lead sitting next to him. Another wore some weird white, paper mask over his mouth and nose.

The last guy, though, looked _ridiculous_! Mum would've had a fit if she saw him. His face was covered in white makeup with solid, black eyeshadow, black lipstick, and shaggy, greasy hair that she'd probably have a Scorgify on before she even realized it was hair. He wore a black and white patterned jacket with metal bits and bobs hanging from black trousers. He also had the same impish grin that the Twins wore all the time.

Next to the girl was another kid, a little younger than themselves. He wore a gray jacket with a green knit cap and was anxiously looking around at the group, silently bouncing on his heels in place.

At the head was a _really_ tall bloke! Besides Hagrid, he'd never seen someone that tall in the Wizarding world. The guy looked really young, too, but had the same white hair as his ancient great-uncle Tiberius.

Hagrid seemed to just focus on McGonagall, "Er, Firs' years, Professor." He said, still occasionally casting glances at the strangers.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She replied evenly. She started talking and talking and talking about the banquet (which was one of the few words he really took in), the houses, the house cup, and something about freshening up. Honestly, he already knew he'd be going to Gryffindor. Why bother listening in on that lecture.

McGonagall turned to leave for the Great Hall behind them and (though she'd deny it to her dying day if anyone ever asked) gave a loud shriek at the sight of the strangers behind her. "Mr. Lindermann! H-how? I mean, what are you doing here?"

"I have permission from Professor Dumbledore," The tall bloke responded calmly in an American accent.

The stern Professor quickly composed herself, her cheeks lightly dusted with pink as she held her head high and strode out of the room, but turned back, "Mr. Lindermann, if you'd prefer, only the first years are meant to enter the Great Hall together. Would you and your wards like to follow me?"

The man nodded with thanks and motioned for his large group to follow, the one with the cane tapping it rhythmically in front of him. The man gave a brief, small smile and a barely perceptible nod to someone in the crowd. This time, Ron searched for the foreigner kid with another American accent. He found him with the other boy in the train car-

-and Harry Potter!

Green eyes, messy black hair, and he could barely see a scar through the bangs if he squinted hard enough. Just like his sister's storybooks! He was sorely tempted to barrel through the smaller first years to get through to Potter, but the famous boy wizard seemed to be talking quietly to the two foreigners.

What in Merlin's name is he doing? Associating with _those_ types! Then again, he considered, the stories always said he'd traveled the world. Maybe they were friends from some as-of-yet-unpublished adventure in America.

Either way, it didn't matter. Harry Potter was here at Hogwarts.

And he was going to be his friend.

* * *

The trio waited patiently in the entrance hall uninterrupted by the others. There was one moment where several ghosts phased through the wall and addressed the students. The friar's ghost smiled at them all, but seemed to hesitate at Nick and Adrian. Almost like he could tell something was off about them.

Still, the group of phantoms was shooed away by McGonagall as she entered the room again. "We're ready for you. Follow me."

They formed a single line and walked through the enormous, oak doors into an incredible space. Thousands of wax candles were floating in mid air above the tables, basking the whole room in light from the lower spaces to the highest rafters.

Though, the rafters seemed to simply vanish and opened into a large, starry expanse mirroring the diamond-studded velvet outside. It even had a few clouds drifting across. They overheard the Hermione girl whisper excitedly to a (slightly annoyed) Indian girl that the roof was charmed to look like the outside and wasn't actually the sky.

There were four long tables filled with students about 12 to 18. Above each table was a banner with a distinct crest and color pattern; a blue and bronze eagle, a yellow and black badger, a red and gold lion, and a green and silver snake. The students had ties, scarves, and small details on their robes signifying their house.

Slenderman and his wards were waiting at the edge of the hallway, looking around with interest. A few students kept glancing over at them curiously, but McGonagall and the first year entourage seemed to captivate most of the attention.

They were led to a stool sitting in the middle of a podium just in front of the large head table overlooking everything. Harry noted in the exact center, in-line with the stool was a much more ornate throne with an ancient man sitting in it. His first impression was that this was Merlin and he'd somehow kept living past King Arthur's story to teach here, but a more probable name popped to mind a moment later.

Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster would, naturally, have the head spot on the table (and probably the comfiest seat). The man had a white beard down to his waist, a pointed hat that was the same ludicrous purple and with gold stars and planets as his robes, and golden wire spectacles. All-in-all, an almost exact replica of what would be expected of King Arthur's court wizard. A glance at Slender let him catch the disguised entity nervously watching the man and shifting himself between the aged wizard and his wards, protectively.

McGonagall returned to the stool with a ratty, old wizard's hat. It was frayed, dirty, and old and completely unremarkable save for how old it must've been.

That is, until a tear by the brim of the hat opened and the hat started singing.

**If you want to read the canon sorting song,**

**I didn't type it out because it's way too long.**

**Find it on Google or read it from the book.**

**Because I'm busy writing and cannot spare a look.**

**And don't think that I'm lazy or any other deal,**

**I've read too many fanfics to type the same old spiel.**

**-Crow**

The audience clapped politely as the hat resumed its neutral state. When the applause died down, Professor McGonagall took her spot by the stool and held up the Sorting Hat. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." She checked the long roll of parchment in her hand before calling out, "Abbott, Hannah!"

The hat sat on her head for a moment before shouting out 'HUFFLEPUFF!'. The girl stood up from the seat and walked over to the yellow and black table applauding her. Then, 'Bones, Susan' went to Hufflepuff as well with 'Boot, Terry' going to Ravenclaw.

"Brahms, Nikolaus!"

Nick blanched at his name being called so soon. Why, oh why couldn't he have picked a good "M" name when he met Slender? Why Brahm? He sat down on the stool and the hall went dark as the hat was put over his eyes.

'_My, oh my. What have we here?_' A voice chuckled in his ear. He stiffened nervously as the voice continued, '_Don't be alarmed, I won't divulge your secrets, your friends', or your guardian's. Still, practically an Inferi with a few, shall we say, 'creepy, crawly extra passengers'? Hmm?_

'_You're definitely not ambitious enough for Slytherin. While you've demonstrated _some_ courage in the past, I'm afraid it won't be enough for Gryffindor's standards. A good mind, but no real thirst for knowledge. Hmmm, though you are a remarkable friend. Very loyal to Mr. Potter and Mr. Thresher, even going as far as that rather painful procedure I see you underwent. I will look forward to sorting them as well in the near future._

_'As for you, I believe your place is in- _HUFFLEPUFF!'

The crowd in yellow and black applauded as the hat was taken off of the undead boy and he made his way to the nearest open seat by 'Bones, Susan'.

The sorting continued through B and narrowed down slowly towards P.

"Moon, Lily"

"Nott, Theodore"

"Parkinson, Pansy"

"Patil, Padma"

"Patil, Pavarti"

"Perks, Sally-Anne"

Harry's mouth got dry as the P section seemed abnormally long compared to the others. It just felt like it was drawing this out unnecessarily. He got a lurch in his stomach as practically everyone at the head table seemed to lean in anxiously for the next name. Knowing his luck-

"Potter, Harry."

Yep.

As he snuck his way forward through the crowd, he heard whispers all around them like wildfire, repeating his name incredulously and some even craning upwards to catch a glimpse of him. Eventually, he made it to the front and had to continue walking forward, leaving the safety of the collective of students and being singled out. He felt every eye suddenly train on him unnervingly.

He sat down at the stool and entered the dark void the hat provided.

'_Hello, Mr. Potter,_' A voice whispered in his ear, '_What a remarkable mind you have.'_

_'Yeah, well, don't go poking around too much.'_

_'Oh stop it; it's the thing's job… his… job? Her job?'_

_'It's a hat. I doubt the seamstress stitched on the 'bits' necessary to distinguish that.'_

_'Will you lot just SHUT UP! You're not helping!'_ Harry mentally shouted.

…

…

'_And a bit of a fractured mind as well,_' the hat voiced, '_by the by, I consider myself male from my voice. Now, on to the Sorting._

Harry felt like something was poking around in his brain. Not painfully, more like someone in a museum glancing at the displays and dioramas through glass without touching, disturbing, or really doing anything besides walk down the hallway and observe. At length, the hat spoke again.

'_You are a loyal friend, there is no doubt, and you are firmly dedicated towards your family, but you would cause the Hufflepuffs to soil themselves regularly with your ideas and… personalities.'_

_'You're damn right we would!'_

_'Shut up, please!_' Harry mentally berated them.

_'From your rather limited interactions with Mr. Malfoy, I doubt you'd do well in Slytherin. You'd likely eviscerate the entire house before Thursday, particularly if you consider your fellow wards brothers and sisters. They may not take too kindly to that._

_'Additionally, you have no true ambitions in life nor 'cunning'. Looking at your… electrifying "resume" you seem to "wing it" like your brother Jeffery, instead of carefully planning your method of attack like Slenderman or Jack… the eyeless one, not the psychotic clown. He falls in the former_.'

'_I figured_.' Harry nodded.

'_Now… Gryffindor. You've got plenty of courage to have accepted the hand of a faceless entity at age 7. Additionally, you have a _quest_! Oh, Godric would have begged to have someone with a Life Quest in mind in his house. So few do these days and your determination to help Balance the world is a rather noble one as well._

_'However, I see that you take a Grayer stance on actions and the world. Gryffindor is rather Light-minded with very little room for deviation. So you would undoubtedly clash ideologies within the first week._

_'Now, for Ravenclaw… hmmm… you certainly have an enquiring mind. You assisted Eyeless Jack multiple times in his laboratory… Hahaha! I just saw the memory of you dissecting your first cadaver!_'

Harry blushed at the reminder. He'd done a sloppy job of removing the cranium to the cadaver and the brain slid right out, snapped the brain stem and he'd stepped right on it, slipping head over heels and landing in a puddle of brain juice and squished gray matter.

_'Additionally, Ravenclaws are an intellectual bunch and are more open to different ideas than their own. They would certainly be more open-minded about your Gray methods and agenda. You may even find a few like-minded individuals to make your stay more pleasant._

_'Yes, I believe you'd do well in- _RAVENCLAW!"

The world exploded back into light as Harry had to blink rapidly to adjust his eyes from the dark void. The hall was in a slightly stunned silence until the blue and bronze house clapped happily with the red and gold house looking between him and the hat confusedly. He heard a few mutinous mutterings as well.

Glancing up at the head table, he saw many teachers surprised and Dumbledore rather irritated and confused. He kept going and seated himself a spot or two away from the other first years, but they scooted over and began introducing themselves animatedly. Soon he was bombarded with questions about where he was, how he killed You-Know-Who, how he did all the stuff some book franchise said he'd done, etc.

Eventually he stopped listening and just kept his mouth shut in the face of the torrent of questions. McGonagall made a sound like a firecracker blast from her wand and regained order over the inquisitive house before continuing.

Harry ignored the anxious looks he kept getting as the sorting ceremony continued. Finally, they made it to T.

"Thresher, Adrian."

The dark-haired boy made his way up to the podium and sat underneath the hat.

'_Ah, hello at last, Mr. Thresher._' The voice said calmly, _'Let's see, here. Oh, very straightforward. Brave, but not recklessly so. Loyal, but not your most defining feature. Cunning, but not to the extent of ambition. And, of course, an insatiable curiosity for everything. A Ravenclaw if ever I saw one._

_'Though, I'm afraid I can't answer any of your questions, Mr. Thresher. Only wish you luck in finding answers. But, I will say that you have a strong thirst for knowledge… you always have.'_

_'What does that mean?'_ Adrian asked curiously.

_'I can't say. That's as much as I can tell you. Your Life is your own.'_

_'Are you saying you can see my memories?! The ones I've forgotten?!'_ Adrian straightened on the stool, '_Please, tell me!'_

_'I can't, Mr. Thresher. It's not yet time.'_

_'Like Hell! It's been a year and I'm still no closer to knowing! When will it be time?'_ Adrian thought desperately.

_'I cannot say.'_

_'Tell me or I'll burn you like a ragdoll,'_ the amnesiac threatened.

In response, the hat just chuckled, '_Mr. Thresher, I receive threats on a regular basis. 'Send me to this house or I'll tear you apart here and now', 'send that boy here so we'll be best friends forever or I'll infest you with lice'. I can tell you not one such attempt has ever worked.'_

The boy under the hat slumped defeated and the hat allowed a twinge of sympathy for the boy's plight, _'I will tell you this, though_.' Adrian raised his head to listen, '_The memories are not erased or gone. You still have full access to them.'_

_'No I don't. I haven't been able to remember any of them even during meditations_.' He argued.

The hat seemed to sadden just a bit, '_There is a difference between forgetting and subconsciously choosing not to remember…_ RAVENCLAW!'

The hat was removed from his head and he slowly stood up and walked to a spot next to Harry. He cast one more look at the hat and the tip seemed to nod silently to him before sorting the next student.

The sorting continued onwards ending with 'Zabini, Blaise' in Slytherin before Dumbledore stood. "Now, before I begin announcements, I'd like to address Mr. Lindermann," He gestured to the tall, white-haired man, "and his family who have stayed for the sorting of three of their wards. If you would, you may sit at any of the tables to partake in our feast."

Slender nodded politely and the group split apart towards different tables. But, the Slytherin table was rather vocal that they didn't want to host them, so they all chose to avoid that table like the plague. Slender sat at Gryffindor, figuring it would be good to scope out at least one of the houses his wards weren't in. Laughing Jack and Jeffery (still holding on to Smile) joined him at the Lion's table. Eyeless Jack and Toby chose to sit over by Harry and Adrian at Ravenclaw. Finally, Sally and BEN joined Nick at Hufflepuff, figuring it sounded like the nicer house of the four.

Dumbledore continued standing until the guests had seated themselves before opening his arms wide, "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat down to applause and cheers of the students and slightly amused/exasperated clapping from the other professors at the Head Table. Then, food suddenly appeared in front of everyone present. Harry was amazed at the entire variety of meat dishes, potatoes, vegetables, and miscellaneous that traveled the length of the table.

He glanced around the table and already saw people were talking to his family.

* * *

At Hufflepuff

"Aren't you two just such cuties!" Squealed a seventh year Hufflepuff. Sally complied with her 'adorable' face and a polite 'thank you'. BEN, inadvertently, amplified his cuteness by huffing and muttering that he wasn't 'cute'.

As the girls were squealing over the two, Nick was talking to Susan Bones and her friend Hannah Abbot. "So, you're family adopted Harry Potter?"

He nodded, "Yeah, although they did it before I got there. I've only been around for a year before I got the Letter. Harry's been with Mr. Lindermann for years."

"How many people are in your family?" Hannah asked, curious.

Nick looked up in thought, "Well, there's Jeff, LJ, EJ, Toby, Sally, Ben, Harry, Adrian, and me. Then, there're a lot of guests who come in and out and are more like tenants than family. Except for Rak- I mean, Raaaa-kesh! That's a name! Rakesh, he's more of a freeloader."

Susan snickered at the odd comment, but nodded, "Wow, that's a big family."

The wizard shrugged, "It's alright. I mean, we've got our own rooms, so that's pretty neat. I've got an entire bug collection in mine back home!" He said proudly.

Hannah paled, "B-bugs?"

"Yep," He said happily, "I've got centipedes, scorpions, black widow spiders, wolf spiders, slugs, beetles, worms, grubs-"

"Ew! Ewewewewew!" Hannah exclaimed, brushing herself like they were all over her. "How can you stand those things!? They're so _gross_!"

"Hey, they're awesome! Did you know the praying mantis has only one ear and can swivel its head 360 degrees?" Nick quipped. Hannah shuddered.

"Oh, _please_ stop."

Susan was laughing at her childhood friend's discomfort, "Sorry, Hannah, but you're probably going to have to get over that fear on our first Herbology class. We'll be digging around with _worms_ and _beetles_ and _aphids_-"

"No. Not you too! Noooooo!" Hannah wailed quietly. Nick and Susan snickered as her head despairingly made contact with the tabletop.

* * *

At Ravenclaw

"So, you're Harry Potter?"

"Where've you been?"

"Do you know any rare spells?"

"Want some peas, Harry? You can have mine."

"How did you manage to stop the Tasmanian Harpies?"

"Aurgh!" said boy growled frustratingly, "Yes! Don't ask! No! No! I don't know! _Please_ stop asking questions all at once or this will be a very annoying meal."

The inquisitive minds of Ravenclaw weren't known for their social skills, but could tell enough when to back off. They began asking small questions, getting terse "Yes", "No", "I don't know", or "don't ask me that" answers without any elaboration they'd hoped for. After a while, it became apparent that they wouldn't be getting any answers this meal.

They resolved to acquire information slowly, instead.

Finally, one third year pureblood turned to the family of Harry Potter and spoke to EJ, intent on information-seeking, "Excuse me, but why are you wearing those dark glasses? Isn't it hard to see?"

He gave a wry smile in her general direction as several muggleborns either snorted or facepalmed in embarrassment. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Well, why don't you take them off?" She demanded curiosity peaked.

He shrugged, "Most prefer it if I wear them."

"Why?" She persisted, ducking around in an attempt to catch a glimpse beneath the glasses. At this point, several students were affronted or wincing in empathetic embarrassment. "It's so muggle of you to wear something like that. Is it one of your odd fashion statements or something equally as ridiculous?"

EJ simply raised an eyebrow and took off the glasses. The Ravenclaw jerked back in mild horror as she found foggy, blue eyes staring vacantly into her own with unnerving precision.

"I'm blind." He said simply, waving a hand in front of his glassy eyes for emphasis. She felt her face become hot with a furious blush of embarrassment and she began stammering out apologies. Instead, EJ simply put the glasses back over his eyes and returned to his plate.

The situation left an awkward tension around the table, which some muggleborn and halfbloods tried to diffuse; helping to describe some of the dishes to him and holding some out for him to try or even helping to serve some to his plate.

At length, a different raven cautiously asked Toby, "Why were you wearing that paper mask?"

"Cleanliness," He replied. He'd lowered the surgical mask to around his neck as he allowed his glamour to cover the cheek and started eating. He still tilted his head a bit to the side, but it passed off as pretty normal. "I'm usually sick or get sick pretty easily, so I wear that to keep germs off."

"Germs?" A pureblood asked. EJ broke his earlier moodiness by excitedly starting a lecture on the history and biology of pathogens and viruses. Harry and Adrian were genuinely surprised as the Ravenclaws not only didn't fall asleep, but were _actively_ listening, some even writing what he said down on parchment and asking questions.

As he spoke, no one noticed him "accidentally" scratching the hand of a boy passing him a plate of potatoes. He apologized, saying he should file down his nails, as he discretely hid his hands below the table and tucked a small, metal object with a spot of blood on the end in a sample bag.

* * *

At Gryffindor

Slender was honestly ready to call it quits and walk out. Dumbledore and the End-of-the-World be damned.

He'd turned his head from Dumbledore's ludicrous "speech" when he and his wards were bombarded from all around with questions.

"You adopted Harry Potter?"

"Where's he been?"

"Is he coming back to save us?"

"Why are you wearing make-up?"

"Why is your hair white?"

"Is everyone here your kid?"

"Why do you have a dog with you?"

"Is Harry Potter single?"

"Enough!" He growled, putting a little emphasis of Sigma into it for good measure. He successfully quelled the inane questions. He pinched his nose (again wondering if sinuses would ever help make that more effective) and sighed, "I will answer a few questions _one at a time_."

The final few words, stopped another torrent of questions his way. A redheaded boy with his cheeks grotesquely stuffed with chicken spoke (resulting in Slender quickly raising his napkin in front of his plate as a barrier from chicken bits, not that the boy noticed), "Jus' what did you do to 'arry Potter?" _Ugh_, Slender shivered, _The 'P's are the worst_. "Firs' he's off he's not around for four years. Next, he's a Ravenclaw! The Boy Who Lived, a Ravenclaw! E'rybody knows 'e's a Gryffindor."

By now, many people had taken up Slender's idea and the boy was blocked in with napkins facing his direction, shielding their food from the disgusting rain of half-chewed meat.

Then, the unthinkable!

A large glob of chicken flew a bit further from his mouth on the 'Gryff' part of his speech and landed right on the lapel of Slenderman.

The students stared wide-eyed at the white bit stuck to the black fabric. LJ and Jeff stared at Slender, himself, half expecting black tentacles to erupt suddenly from his back and very messily reduce the slob to a quivering mass of flesh and guts.

Instead, Slender took a _very_ deep breath. Flicked the chicken bit off of his suit and to the floor. He addressed the boy in front of him with a leveled stare, "I don't know why he would be in Ravenclaw. Nor do I know why he 'should be' in Gryffindor. But I can tell you that I have no control over what _your_ magic hat decides. Now _chew with your mouth closed_."

Most people remembered their mother admonishing the same way, but with more of an exasperated sighing kind-of-way. This man's version resembled something along the lines of 'chew with your mouth closed or I will find a sewing kit and stitch your mouth closed _for_ you'… and _mean_ it. Still, it did the trick; the redhead fearfully clamped his mouth shut and swallowed.

Slender took out a handkerchief from inside his pocket and wiped the remnants off as two other redheads spoke up, "Don't mind him." Said Twin 1.

"He's just sore-" Said Twin 2.

"-we don't have Potter."

"And you're not?" Slender enquired, eyebrow raised. The twins shook their heads in uniform response.

"Yeah, we're a bit-"

"-disappointed he's not-"

"-in Gryffindor like-"

"-everyone expects, but-"

"-we like a good joke."

"And love a surprise."

"The Boy Who Lived, Ravenclaw, is a pretty good one," They agreed in sync.

"I like them," Laughing Jack said gleefully. The duo turned to him wide-eyed.

"Woah! Mate, why-"

"-are you wearing"

"-make up?"

"Not that it's bad-"

"-it's just odd."

"Again, not in the bad way." They finished together

Jack pretended to look affronted, "Why, do my ears deceive me? Is there someone who hasn't heard of the magnificent, awe-inspiring, and rich history and culture of the Juggalo?"

"Juggalo? What's that?" Another person asked.

"No idea! I just know they paint their faces like clowns! Ahahahaha!" He cackled, clutching his sides. The twins were joining him shortly after. He held out both hands toward the twins, crossed, "Name's Landon Jack, call me LJ or Jack."

The twins each took one of his hands and used the other to shake the other Twin's hand. "I'm Fred, he's George."

"That's rubbish, _I'm_ Fred, _he's_ George."

"I'm Gred."

"He's Forge."

The rest was lost to laughter as they continued introducing themselves, crossing, uncrossing and shaking each other's hands ridiculously, sometimes two grabbing both hands and leaving one to shake his own hands together before they swapped again. A frizzy-haired girl with rather large teeth huffed at the display and turned towards Jeff, "You really shouldn't have a dog here. What if someone's allergic?"

"Oh, don't worry, Smile's pretty hypoallergenic." Jeff reached down to pet the canine's head while also sending down a small plate of bacon, ham, and a couple ribs. The dog munched happily on the feast.

The girl didn't seem convinced, "It's still unclean to have an animal at the table."

"So? That kid's got a rat in his pocket," Jeff pointed a fork at the earlier redhead, who was feeding a bit of ham to a rat sticking it's head out of his coat pocket. The girl shrieked and started berating him for brining that 'filthy vermin to the table'.

Slender couldn't help but agree with her even though she was rather shrill about it. Jeff turned to look at the Slytherin table and did a double-take, grimacing, "Yeesh, what's up with them?"

"With who?" An older student asked. Jeff side-nodded his head towards the Green-and-Silver table. "Those people. A lot of them look like inbred hillbillies, gorillas, or both."

"Oh, that's the Slytherin table." The boy replied, "They're a load of 'Purebloods' and don't look too kindly on anyone else. Even half-bloods get a hard time from them."

"Oh, yeah, I heard about that whole 'Pureblooded' thing. What's that got to do with them?" Jeff asked. Slender quickly put two and two together and became rather nauseated, hoping his theory was not correct.

"Well… die-hard pureblood families never allow their children to marry someone of 'lower birth', but since that pool is dwindling and more families are either mixing, dying off, or the pureblood family _really_ don't want their children marrying someone who looks like _that_, they… uh…" He leaned in close to them, "They've got a nasty habit of marrying their own first cousins."

Jeff choked on a bite of beef as the student continued, pointing to a scowling, slack-jawed 6th year Slytherin with a misshapen head. "Rumor has it; Kornswall's mother is either his father's sister or his daughter from the previous marriage."

The guests made it a point to do everything in their power to _not_ look in the direction of the Slytherin table. A Fourth year girl spoke from down the table, "Well, yeah, but I mean a lot of people do it without realizing. Like Parker and Storks? They're dating though they're technically third cousins."

"Well, _that's_ actually legal." The boy retorted.

Jeff grimaced, "Great, so Hogwarts is kinda like one, big, creepy incestuous family reunion." Many purebloods frowned, but couldn't argue while many more around them openly laughed.

The frizzy-haired girl finished her tirade against the poor redheaded boy, who promised to keep his rat in the dorm (Slender was even happier, now, that none of his wards wound up in this house to share the room with a rat), and took notice of the "Juggalo" boy, piling his plate with sugared ham, sweet meats, peppermints, pudding, and even various candies he kept pulling seemingly endlessly from his pockets. She openly gawked as he pulled out a bottle of chocolate sauce from his hoodie pocket and doused the whole concoction in it, practically emptying the bottle.

She sat in stunned horror as he took a chunk out and shoved it all in his mouth. "That's horrific!" She screeched.

The sweet-toothed "teen" sent her an annoyed eyebrow raise, she continued without prompting, "That much sugar will rot your teeth straight out of your head. I should know, my parents are dentists and regularly deal with cavities and gingivitis from people like you with abominable addictions to sugar."

He shrugged, "It's okay with me. My teeth are perfectly fine. See?" He pulled back his cheek and showed her his miraculously still pearly-white teeth that glinted at the points-

Hermione blinked.

The teeth were normal, but for just a second, she could have sworn there were razor sharp spikes in his mouth.

"Hello!" A cheery voice echoed from down the table, "New students, I see! And guests! We've never actually had guests before!"

A man with a ruffled neck floated down the table towards them, smiling and nodding as he drifted past. He addressed Slenderman with a half bow, "Hello, good sir, my name is Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Gryffindor's resident ghost."

Slenderman was about to make an equally-courteous reply when the boorish redhead spoke, "Hey, I know you! You're Nearly Headless Nick!"

The ghost huffed, "I _prefer_ Sir Ni-"

"Nearly Headless?" An Irish boy asked incredulously. "How can someone be 'Nearly Headless'?"

"Like this." The man said irritably. He pulled on his ear and his head swung to the side, a transparent thread of flesh joining his head and body. He gave a satisfied 'hmph' at the stunned looks on the student's faces, but was surprised by the guests' impassive eyebrow raise (Slender) or grinning fascination. "Cool," Jeff said, staring at the mess of a trachea and vocal chords exposed.

The ghostly Nick popped his head back on as Slender spoke, "Well, prior to the interruption, my name is Solomon Lindermann. It's nice to meet you, Sir Nicholas."

"And it's _very_ nice to meet you, as well." The Gryffindor ghost agreed whole-heartedly. No one had addressed him so politely in almost two centuries.

"In regards to your… circumstance," Slender said delicately, "I believe I know a good Dullahan who specializes in 'Post-Mortem decapitation' if you're interested."

Nicholas's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really? A Dullahan would fully decapitate me? Oh, that would be _marvelous_! I could finally _stick it_ to those rascals at the Headless Hunt!"

Slender nodded, "I'll contact Ms. Sturluson about it and see when she can visit."

The ghost nodded happily and drifted off, humming a death march merrily.

* * *

Up at the head table, Dumbledore made eye contact with Snape, telling him to try the pea soup tonight and that it was marvelous. The potions master didn't miss the glint in the Headmaster's eyes. They had spoken earlier in his office regarding this plan. Snape knew the old codger wanted him to start.

A passive examination from a skilled Legilimens wouldn't cause pain like wand-based Legilimency nor would it provide firm memories; more like a general mental construct and projection of the individual. Dumbledore proposed it would be too abrupt to try something too risky, so he instructed Snape to only perform a passive search.

Snape looked over at the Ravenclaw table. There was Potter's wretched spawn sitting there, quietly answering the steady stream of questions with an annoyed look on his face. The fact that a Potter went anywhere _but_ Gryffindor was practically unheard of, but seeing Lily's eyes on the face of _James Potter_… didn't make things any easier.

Still, the boy wouldn't look up at them, too engrossed in his conversation. The young man with the sunglasses would be impossible to read, even if they made eye-contact through the dark glass. He got his chance when the odd boy in the surgical mask started looking up at the ceiling and lolled his head around to take in the sights.

His eyes finally started wandering down towards the Head Table.

Their eyes met-

* * *

_Screaming._

_That was what Severus first noticed when he arrived. There was so much screaming and the loud crackling of a bonfire. He was facing a road that seemed to go on forever with a dense pine forest on either side._

_Around him, there was screaming echoing from within the woods and voices whispering "All your fault", "Distracted her", "Would… seen… truck", "Wou-.. seen… light" just above the threshold of hearing._

_On one side was a normal forest scene at night._

_On the other was a forest blazing with fire. Smoke from the flames billowed into the cloudy sky, obliterating the starry expanse that showed on the other half of the road. A muggle automobile was driven into a ditch on the hellish side, flames roaring from the broken windows. He could barely make out the shadow of a figure lying in the front seat-_

_*hic*_

_He spun around and was faced with something else. The fiery forest was still there on his right, but the road had vanished and the other side had the peaceful forest meld into the walls and ceiling of a teenaged boy's room. Nothing abnormal about it; a few posters of muggle rock bands, a desk clean of anything, a dresser, a bed, but a teenaged figure huddled on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably, looking absolutely terrified._

_On the right side was the burning forest with a second figure. Odd muggle stoplights, twisted and blinking the red and green lights were surreally embedded in the tree trunks like demented branches while headlights seemed to be glaring from deep within the darkness in the woods. In the middle of the fiery chaos was another figure, seemingly the same as the crying teenager. This one wore a hooded jacket and sweater. Yellow-tinted goggles obscured his eyes and his lower face was covered by a mask giving the unnerving impression of grinning._

_His hands held two bloodied hatchets. It was then that he noticed the blood flecks on his arms and clothes._

_Both figures suddenly looked right at him without warning._

_The teenager's eyes widened in horror._

_The psychopath cackled with glee._

_The boy pulled his arm back._

_A hatchet twirled straight towards his fac-_

* * *

Snape was jolted out of the mind of the boy as he continued his wandering gaze across the massive Hall, completely oblivious to the events inside his own mindscape.

He took a small sip of his water goblet. It had never existed, but he could practically smell the smoke from the flames and the iron from the blood on the weapon just before it would have split his skull.

Still, the boy seemed absolutely… normal.

The experienced Occlumens barely suppressed the shudder.

He looked at Dumbledore who nodded, seeing he'd gathered some information and began scoping out the Gryffindor Table for someone, anyone to make eye contact with.

His chance came when the boy in the white hooded jacket happened to glance up.

Young crystal blue eyes briefly met with aged cornflower blue-

* * *

_Fire._

_Dumbledore found himself inside a dark, white room that was burning. He'd visited Saint Mungo's enough to recognize a hospital room, even with not visiting a muggle's version. He recognized the sterile environment and the bed curtains currently in an everlasting blaze, never burning._

_His eyes were drawn immediately to a figure in the lone bed of the room. The entire figure was only illuminated by the flames around him, but he could still see everything. The boy in the bed was wearing the traditional, blue-white hospital gown with his lower half obscured by the sheets A muggle IV stand holding a bag of viscous black fluid was next to him with the long tube snaking its way to the embedded part in the crook of his arm._

_The rest of his arm aside from where the needle went in was completely covered in white gauze and bandages. Every patch of skin that could've been visible was under a layer of wrapped cloth. He'd be willing to bet his legs and torso were as well underneath the sheets and gown._

_His entire head was completely wrapped in white bandages, only a few tufts of char black hair peeking out through the gaps. There was a separation in the bandages just above his nose indentation._

_Cold, piercing gray eyes glared between the bandages straight at him._

_Suddenly, the bandages below his nose started tearing and a gaping mouth ripped through the gauze._

_"GET OUT!"_

_He felt himself being thrown backwards like he was blasted off of his feet by a hex. Confusing images danced in front of his eyes._

_Pain_

_Fire_

_Skin burning_

_Chemicals_

_A bloody sink_

_A razor_

_A mirror_

_"I AM BEAUTIFUL"_

_Gray Eyes_

* * *

Dumbledore started, shaken by the experience of those hateful gray eyes glaring at him. He couldn't help but note the significant difference between the cold gray and the crystal blue now directing their gaze in a different direction.

He quickly schooled himself before nodding quietly to Snape.

The potions master sighed. He couldn't handle another vision like that odd boy's. Even in the demented Occlumency teachings of the Death Eaters had he ever encountered something so twisted as being someone's mental projection.

He glanced at the Hufflepuff table and saw his chance when the odd, young boy was looking up at the Head table, directed by an older student's finger clearly pointing out the names of each professor.

He waited as the boy made his way down the line of Professors.

Ocean blue met beetle black-

* * *

_He arrived in a sea of confusion._

_All around him were strings of green, floating digits consisting of an almost infinite stream of 1s and 0s in no particular order. He knew it had to do with muggle computers, but he'd never looked much beyond that. Though, he recognized the faint hiss, crackle, and whine of muggle dial-up "Internet" from the 1990s echoing in the background._

_Unlike his colleagues, he stayed relatively in-touch with the continuing progress of muggle technology and took an adult course in basic computer usage at the local library by his home at Spinner's End one summer seeing the strong, increasing trend of the device in muggle society._

_Though, he didn't recognize odd phrases like 'cin' and 'cout' and 'jpg' that drifted through the black void. It was all a mess of junk and confusion. His mental avatar snorted to itself. One of those Millennial children, he supposed. Obsessed with technology to the point where their thought patterns are practically computer code._

_He looked around, not seeing anything worth noting. Not even the boy's personal mental projection. Even if he looked around for memories or some such, it was too confusing to decipher._

_He readied himself to leave-_

_When he saw the floor._

_It wasn't just a black expanse as he initially thought, but a lake surface. The black water rippled slightly around his feet, but shimmered with depth._

_As he peered into the abyss, he saw a small flicker of something odd beneath the water. Curiosity got to him and he knelt down and let his face sink below the rippled surface._

_It was green-gray water, but clearer than any lake he'd ever seen. Beneath the watery floor was a lone figure, only 10 years old at most, floating in the nothingness. Blonde hair drifted with a nonexistent current like seaweed in the tide._

_The boy was facing away from him._

_*Hulp!*_

_He choked, seeing air bubbles erupt from his mouth._

_He was _overwhelmed_ by the sudden and inescapable urge to breathe! It made no sense, his mental avatar didn't need to breathe; air didn't exist here!_

_He tried pulling his head back, but found it stuck beneath the lake's glassy surface. Suddenly, he felt the surface beneath his hands and knees give out and he plunged into the icy water. He scrambled and reached the surface again, but found it was suddenly solid, like knocking on kinetic glass, rippling like waves._

_The urge to breathe was unbearable. Agony, fear, panic, all emotions that he'd been trained to withstand suddenly threatened to break his mind._

_He had to escape!_

_He had to!_

* * *

He came to.

*cough!*

*sputter*

He took sudden, but quiet gulps of air as water spilt out of his mouth into the goblet in his hand. Minerva looked over to him. "Severus, are you alright? Did you choke on your drink?"

He nodded, red-faced as he continued to sputter water. Still, the taste lingered in his mouth. Undeniable and unmistakable.

Salt.

Salt water.

Sea water.

He started to swallow, trying to remove the sudden lump in his throat. He gagged silently on something. He discretely put two fingers by his gums and pulled out a long fiber of seaweed, the length threatening to go down his esophagus.

He ignored McGonagall's quizzical look and put the slimy plant on the side of his plate and started eating a meager portion of the feast before him.

His extensive Occlumency training barely held his hands steady.

* * *

Dumbledore looked at Snape, but found he was eating and trying his hardest to not look the headmaster in the eyes. Dumbledore's sharp observational skills noted a small bit of sweat on his forehead just beneath the curtain of greasy, black hair and his normally pale pallor was even paler. Something had spooked the notorious dungeon bat of Hogwarts.

He settled back into his chair and found Mr. Lindermann looking up at him. Black eyes boring into blue.

He looked back into them-

* * *

_White… no, gray?_

_He found himself in a misty void. There was barren, gray/brown dirt below him, but everything around him was shrouded in a white fog. He could barely make out gnarled, black outlines of trees, just grayed silhouettes in the white._

_And snow._

_There had been some kind of snow obscuring everything around him accompanied by a loud scratching, hissing noise just behind his ears. It was difficult to describe, even feeling it himself. It felt beyond the five senses, like something more primal, basic, and laden with fear._

_Chuckling._

_He whirled around in the mist and found no one, just empty space. Another bout of laughter echoed to his side. He spun in place, trying to find the source and eventually stopped, hearing it echo from all about his mental avatar._

_"Albus Dumbledore."_

_The laughter vanished into oppressive silence. He turned his head towards the sound again and found a tall silhouette in the fog. Nothing else could be distinguished of the figure, but the voice was Solomon Lindermann's._

_"It is neither polite nor wise to enter a stranger's mind, Albus. Let this be a warning."_

* * *

Dumbledore found himself suddenly back in his chair. He suddenly put his hand up to his head, trying to quell the blinding headache just behind his eyes. His ears were filled with a loud ringing that almost drowned out the muffled voice of Minerva.

"Albus, are you alright?" She whispered urgently.

He nodded absentmindedly, the headache beginning to go away. "Albus, you're bleeding!"

He felt a small trickle just above his upper lip and put his fingers up to it to find a dot of blood on the tip. He raised a shaking hand to his hair and was surprised when a tuft of long, white hairs came out between his fingers.

And meanwhile, Solomon Lindermann hadn't taken his eyes off the man.

* * *

At the Gryffindor table, the students continued to eat and Laughing Jack watched a few. He noted the redheaded kid, 'Ron Weasley' as he'd introduced himself, was really horking down on the plate that he seemed to be constantly loading and unloading with grotesque amounts of food.

He looked down the table at another redheaded guy. He had a very stick-up-the-butt attitude and had been arguing with Jeff a while ago about Smile being in the Great Hall (to which, Jeff ever-so-politely told him he could take his opinion and a great deal of the silverware by his plate and shove it somewhere to join the stick he's already got in there). The redhead in question was currently absentmindedly talking to another bunch of older students, not paying attention to their side of the table.

Perfect.

He casually reached into his pocket space and pulled out a vibrant green candy. Just a mild acid to give some indigestion, perfectly harmless and an excellent lesson for a glutton to a) not eat random food he finds and b) eat slower.

He looked away, slyly dropping it with sleight of hand so the small candy rolled right in front of Ron's plate. He quickly glanced away as the redhead looked up at him and, seeing he wasn't looking, picked up the candy.

He took the hard candy from the green plastic wrap and flipped it in the air, opening his mouth ready to catch it, when a hand suddenly blurred in front of his face, grazing his nose. He started as the candy went sailing across the table and landed in another girl's drink a couple seats down.

"Hey! What's the big ide-" Ron started, but noted Jeff's hand lazily pointing towards the goblet the candy landed in. The girl and those around her shrieked as the drink began smoking and the metal dissolved as the drink became acidic enough to eat straight through the gold and begin on the table around it.

A professor came over and vanished the material before setting to repairing the table. A new goblet and drink appeared in the spot to replace the lost one.

Jeff snickered at Ron's dumbfounded look, "Never trust anything 'Wacky Jacky' gives you." He advised.

Slender, having been brought out of his impromptu staring match with the Headmaster, noted the reaction and sent a glamoured glare at the monochrome entity. He was already on thin ice for having his glamour appear with makeup too similar to his usual appearance, this was pushing it.

"H-hey, Jack?"

The 'Juggalo' turned towards the twins, who were looking anxiously at him. "Look, mate, we like you. Really, we do, but could you _not_ kill our brother? I mean, he's a prat, but-"

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed angrily.

Gred continued, closing his eyes only momentarily, "-but he _is_ still our brother. Y'know?" Forge nodded in agreement.

Jack chuckled, "No worries. I don't kill people with my jokes," _In Hogwarts_, he added mentally, "That candy just causes a stomachache. It doesn't hurt them outside of that… and a _painful_ experience on the crapper later. Dunno why it reacted with that stuff, what is it anyway?"

"Pumpkin juice," Forge replied, sincerely relieved at Jack's reasoning.

"Hmm." The multidimensional entity frowned in thought, deconstructing the chemical nature of pumpkins (and also how in the world would you _juice_ one) and trying to figure out where his simple acid tablet would get potent enough to eat solid _gold_.

Something to study later, he supposed.

At the moment, Slender was listening intently to a boy, Neville Longbottom, and his story, "Well, see Gran thought I was a squib on account that I hadn't shown accidental magic, yet. She didn't say she minded, but I could tell she was bothered. Then, my Great Uncle Algie kept trying to do things to 'scare it out of me'.

"He wound up pushing me in the Blackpool Pier, once. I would've drowned, but the nice lifeguard lady saved me. The next few times were things like holding me upside down and shaking me. Threatening to kill a pet rabbit I had… I miss it…" Neville's eyes moistened.

He perked up suddenly at another memory, "But I did show magic eventually! Uncle Algie was holding me by the ankles out the third story window of the manor. Then, my Great-Auntie Enid offered him meringue and he accidentally let me go. I fell all the way down and _bounced_ into the garden!" He beamed proudly.

"They were so pleased! Uncle Algie even bought me Trevor and I- Oh, no!" He wailed, checking his pockets and finding the toad gone.

Slender held up a hand, frowning. "Don't, I'm sure it'll turn up and even then, it's just a toad. Now what was this about _accidentally dropping you_?"

Neville's eyes widened, feeling like he'd let something slip that he shouldn't have. "I, er, I mean, it was an accident."

"An accident that, had you not been fortunate enough to have activated magic for, would have left you very _dead_." Slender argued firmly.

Neville gulped, fear and anxiety in his eyes now, "W-well, I mean… Squibs aren't that uncommon-"

"Squibs?" Slender asked.

"N-non-magical people born to magical parents. A-anyway, it used to be considered shameful to have them, b-but people aren't… I mean, it isn't…" He tried to talk, but his mouth kept getting dry.

Jeff solemnly looked in his cup, "It sounds like a last-ditch thing. Either Neville showed magic and the accident was forgiven. Poof. Gone. Never spoken of again in the face of him having magic. Cover it up with a pretty useless toad as a gift. Or the alternative being he doesn't show magic. He goes splat on the ground. Oh well, accidents happen. No one knows about Neville Longbottom anymore, but he wasn't a squib because that'd be shameful and no one can prove he was. Poof. Gone. Never spoken of again."

Neville silently shook in his seat, realizations starting to flood his mind almost triggering a full-blown anxiety attack in the face of what he'd just heard.

The worst part?

It all made sense.

* * *

Dumbledore gratefully accepted a headache and vitality potion from the house elf hidden beneath the table. He quietly drank the vials and felt instantaneously better. He stood as the desserts vanished. He went into his long lecture on rules (that, naturally, nobody followed) and had them sing the school song in the multitude of odd songs, muggle, magical, and otherwise that crashed together horribly in a cacophony of out-of-tune notes and clashing chords.

"Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here! Now, bedtime! Off you trot!" He announced, wiping away an imaginary tear.

The students filed away out of the doors, led by prefects. The Headmaster watched as Mr. Lindermann gathered his wards by the Gryffindor table and gave them soft-spoken instructions before walking purposefully up to the Head Table.

"Mr. Lindermann," he spoke, anticipating the question, "I'm afraid your arrival tonight was unexpected, so we haven't yet accommodated a room for you and your wards. I believe we'll need at least four different rooms prepared if all here intend to stay." He reasoned, glancing at the wards.

"Not necessary," Solomon replied, "I only planned to bring everyone here just for today. We'll just need a room for three to four people. They will be able to accommodate one room for then. If more arrive, I will inform you ahead of time."

Dumbledore nodded, "Very well, my boy," He noted a tiny twitch of his eye, though he couldn't decide if it was humor or anger… and Legilimency to find out seemed like a bad idea in light of the last time. "We'll be able to have your rooms ready by tomorrow morning, if you're able to come by."

"We will." The white-haired man assured him.

"Then I will ask if you have any preferences in terms of a painting?" The headmaster enquired. At Solomon's confusion, he elaborated, "Every private room in the castle is guarded by a magical portrait. They are capable of opening and closing the doors based upon a set password. I am asking if you have any preference for a certain style or image for your door cover."

The guardian seemed to think it over before replying, "I believe I will have a suitable substitution available to us. I'll bring it along tomorrow morning when we visit."

The headmaster nodded in acceptance, mentally wondering where on _Earth_ they could have found a magical portrait. Even then, he wondered if it was some form of muggle technology. If it was, then he would be sorely disappointed when it ceased to work. He mentally prepared one of his more loyal portraits to be available. This portrait could successfully listen in on their conversations in the room while, simultaneously, monitoring when they go in and come out.

He watched the tall man and his wards leave the Great Hall, escorted by Minerva to the gates. From there, they were largely on their own devices, but seeing as they had already arrived here unannounced, it should be interesting to see how they travelled.

* * *

Minerva led the large group through the hallways back towards the main entrance. She was stopped short by a loud cackle echoing above them. 'Oh, no.' She moaned.

"Ooooh! Ickle guesties! Oh, Peevsies will make you all right at home! Miss Professor can't give you a proper tour; MacGoggles has her hat on much too tight for her own good! Ehhehehehe!"

Her vision was obscured as the pest of a poltergeist suddenly pulled down on her hat flaps and she struggled to pull it back up. Everything around her was muffled by the dense fabric of the hat and her own attempts to remove it.

"Here! Can you juggle, Mr. Clown?" The tiny man floating around took out several walking sticks and dropped them on everyone, bonking BEN's head in particular. He cackled and zoomed through the group, maliciously disrupting their walk-

*grab!*

He jolted suddenly as he found his wrist anchored in place. He looked around wildly, seeing that the little girl in pink had her small hand wrapped around his own.

His mind spun with the implications!

Here, a human girl, could touch a _ghost_. She could restrain him, hold him-

"I don't like your games, sir. They're mean. G-games. Shouldn't. Hurt." She whispered, unblinkingly.

He was sweating ectoplasm bullets as her tiny vice-like grip tightened further, practically crunching his ectoplasmic bone.

She could _hurt_ him.

"Do you want to play with me?"

It was said so innocently, but his very being trembled as those unnatural, green eyes bored into his own. He shook his head desperately.

"Please, no! No Playing! No Playing! No games, alright? Peevsies be good to little miss's friends? Okay? Peevsies swears it!"

The grip relaxed and let him go. He bolted out of the hall and zoomed through the halls, the girl's quiet giggling echoing behind him.

The other ghosts, curious about where he went after not seeing him for almost a week, sent a search party. He was found in one of the most forgotten areas of the castle, usually populated only by ghosts like the Gray Lady or the Whispering Widow. He had tucked himself inside a large-enough decorative urn and when they found him, all he whimpered was 'No playing. No playing."

As the poltergeist zoomed away, Slender walked over to McGonagall and assisted her with her hat.

McGonagall had to blink as the light and sound suddenly returned to her. She looked around in dismay at the large bundle of sticks about the group and the young boy, Benjamin, cradling his head tearfully. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry. I've been asking Dumbledore to do something about Peeves for years, but it never seems to do any good. That meddlesome poltergeist ought to be taken care of."

"We'll manage," Solomon assured her. He motioned with his hand for them to continue and they made it to the Great Hall, undisturbed.

They walked out to the main courtyard and she led them down the long, gravel path towards the steel gates at the end. "Here we are; the Gates to Hogwarts. I'll escort you to Hogsmede, it's just down the road."

"Oh, don't worry, Professor," Solomon replied graciously, "We have our ways of getting around."

McGonagall was shocked, "Mr. Lindermann, I'm not sure you understand, but I cannot leave muggles on their own; especially this close to the Forbidden Forest!"

"We appreciate your concern," The guardian replied thankfully, "But we will manage on our own. Everyone grab hands."

She watched as they walked just off of the Hogwarts boundaries and each took one of Slender's hands. The girl, Sally, was at the end and used her free hand to wave goodbye at her-

-and they were gone.

The entire group vanished in a swirl of black smoke which dissipated into nothingness around her. She was grateful she went alone because if another professor, God forbid another _student_, saw her, they would have witnessed her mouth opening and closing like a gasping Herring on land.

Eventually, she collected her wits and moved dazedly back towards the main castle.

Inadvertently, she cast a side-glance at the Ravenclaw Tower, spiring into the moonlight and starry sky.

'Oh, Mr. Potter,' She thought, 'What on Earth is going on with you?'

* * *

**AN: It's a lot to take in this chapter, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.**

**There is a difference between Toby Rogers and Ticci Toby.**

**The Dullahan is a reference to something I watched on Toonami years ago called "Durarara!" (and, yes, the "!" is in the name).**

**-Crow**


	26. First Days at Hogwarts

**My Beta finally caught a break to preview this.**

**Enjoy!**

**(And, incidentally, Happy Birthday Anonymous Guest).**

* * *

"There he goes!"

"The one with the glasses?"

"The one walking next to the black-haired boy."

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his _scar_?"

Adrian and Harry shared a quiet sigh as they moved through the hallways the next day, thoroughly ignoring everyone around them. It had been an uphill battle last night in the dormitory.

One downside to living with Ravenclaws, as they'd found out, is that they seem to think they're entitled to _every_ bit of information; including personal information.

As soon as they entered the dormitory, upper years were already there and interrupting Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw Prefect, to ask Harry question after question after question. All of which were either bizarre, personal, a mix of the two, or downright rude.

Eventually, they just approached Penelope alone on where they'll sleep and were directed to the circular dormitory room in Ravenclaw Tower. They marched past the crowd still asking questions and found the door before shutting it in many people's faces, locking it, and playing one of Slender's phonograph songs loudly, the bronze horn aimed specifically at the door for a few minutes.

They got ready in peace, only opening it about 10 minutes later at the quiet knocking of Penelope leading their fellow dormmates up. She gave the two a brief summary of whatever they'd missed in regards to bathrooms, library schedules, cleaning, etc.

Afterwards, they allowed a fairly normal question-answer between them and their roommates. The other First Year boys included Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Oliver Rivers, and Stephen Cornfoot. They curtly avoided any questions regarding Slender's mansion and where they lived other than the vaguest information they could give that would stop their questions. Thankfully, as they were new and extremely nervous, the others were more inclined to mind their manners and didn't press after the first refusal.

Eventually, they simply changed behind the curtains and went to bed. Harry was especially interested to find that the Ravenclaw dormitories had a similar sky enchantment to the Great Hall and the canopy had an open top, allowing them to stare at the swirling stars and galaxies above them as they drifted to sleep.

Of course, that also meant that in the morning, they got a face-full of artificial sunlight.

So, Adrian and Harry woke up first, still being off-set from New York time to British time. They had their showers and usual morning rituals, but couldn't seem to escape the morning crowd of people talking about them.

And now they were here, walking down a much-too-long hallway towards the Great Hall, seemingly passing every single student on the way.

When they finally got to their destination, they sat down at the end of the Ravenclaw table, purposefully avoiding any conversation or curious ravens trailing questions after them. They took some of the oatmeal and miscellaneous from the serving platters and quietly started eating. The highlight came when Nick arrived and sat down with them, despite the House difference.

"Hello." He said brightly.

Adrian sent him the darkest death-glare he could. He wasn't a morning person on a normal day; compound the 'Slender-lag' from the time shift, an exhausting amount of obnoxious people, _and_ he was hungry? If gorgons existed in this world, then they had nothing on him right now. "Why. Are. You. So. Chipper?" He grit out.

"Because, it's a glorious day! The sun is shining, birds are chirping, flowers are blooming ("Actually, it's September, they're practically dead" Harry commented) and we're learning magic! Why _aren't_ you excited!"

Adrian blearily glared at the undead corpse and then at the goblet of water in his hand. "I swear, if you'd taken a swig of this before you said all that, I'd dump this under the assumption it was drugged."

"~Good Morning Toooo Yoouuuuuu~" Nick sang. Adrian rolled his eyes and just worked on getting breakfast.

"So, how's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked, biting into a sausage.

Nick shrugged, "It's really cool. The dorms are down towards the cellars, but like the wine cellars, not a dank, creepy dungeon-y cellar. The common room's really cozy, too. Lots of plants decorating the place and even several tea plants right there in the common room with a communal kettle of water over the hearth. You need to bring your own mug, though."

"Sounds very earthy." Harry commented.

"It is," he agreed, "Professor Sprout is apparently our Head of House. She's the Herbology Professor and I swear that's her actual name."

"Ours is Professor Flitwick." Adrian replied.

"The tiny guy?"

"That's him. He's the Charms Professor. Apparently also a professional magic dueler, too." Adrian stated.

"So what're Ravenclaw rooms like?" Nick asked, interestedly.

"Well, I suppose they're the opposite of your room." Harry said thoughtfully. "Yours is close to the ground; ours is in one of the tallest towers. Yours is very earthy; ours is… 'Heavenly', I guess? Lots of stars, galaxies, and sky-stuff."

"Cool."

They continued eating and sharing some tidbits about what they'd done so far, who they'd met, and what they thought when a voice interrupted, "Ah, Mr. Brahms, I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

They turned to see a kind-faced woman with flyaway hair and gardening clothes with an almost permanent layer of dirt on. She had a stack of papers in her hand and handed one to Nick. "I'm glad you promote Inter-House Unity, but it would be helpful if you could stay to your House table on the first breakfast and special feasts. It makes roll-call easier. Now, this is your schedule, please don't hesitate to ask the older years for directions. As for your friends, I see Filius making his rounds, now. Good luck and have a good first day!"

She waved cheerily and headed back to the table of yellow and black. Professor Flitwick soon arrived with a stack almost as tall as himself and used his wand to levitate two schedules to his own students. They began comparing the schedules immediately, noting they had most classes together, thankfully.

A little ways into the meal, Slender arrived with a large canvas under his arm and waved to the group before talking quietly with Professor McGonagall. She nodded and finished handing out her own schedules to the Gryffindor Table before motioning for the disguised guardian to follow her.

"Wonder what that's about." Nick commented through a bite of kipper.

"Probably regarding living conditions." Adrian added.

Harry turned to them, "Living conditions?"

Adrian actually looked embarrassed as he gave a weak smile and half-heartedly said, "Er, surprise?"

* * *

"Here we are." McGonagall stated as they approached a large wall with an iron door set into it. She waved her wand over it and the door vanished, revealing a medium-sized room with three beds, a few cabinets, a desk, and a window letting in the morning light.

"Now, Professor Dumbledore offered you a painting from our vast collection." She pointed to a painting leaned against the wall of a dour-faced man in a wig and purple/gold robes frowning imperiously from a somewhat garishly decorated portrait.

Slender's mouth quirked a frown, "I… appreciate the sentiment, but I believe we have a suitable portrait."

He gestured to the item draped in a tarp that he had with him. He took off the canvas and underneath was a large painting of a woman lying on a blanket in a pleasant meadow scene. A few clouds hung in the sky, blocking the sunlight and making it partially overcast, but still a pleasant scene overall. The painting had an ornate, but tarnished silver frame with a small plaque that read 'Family Portrait'.

"I… see?" The Transfiguration Professor watched the figure carefully, half-expecting it to move or give some indication of magic. How else would it take the password?

The faceless entity lifted the portrait easily and hung it over the entrance. He leaned in and whispered something to the still portrait before turning to her. "Thank you, Professor. That will be it. Oh, and if you ever need to talk to her, her name is Emily."

She nodded, confused. He had just _talked_ to a still, muggle painting. Wizarding paintings, of course, they talked all the time, but a normal, muggle one? Was he… touched in the head, so to speak? Or possibly developing sudden delusions from exposure to the magical world?

"Mr. Lindermann!"

She turned, surprised, as Harry ran through the corridors towards the tall man. "Why didn't you say you were staying?" He demanded, breathing heavily from the run.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. Plus, the living arrangements were still up in the air," Slender replied evenly. He gestured to the painting hiding the room, "This is where we will be staying, for future notice."

Harry was cut off as the first bell of the day rang out. McGonagall fixed a glare on him, "Don't be late, Mr. Potter." She said warningly. He nodded feverishly and started running in one direction.

Slender chuckled as the footsteps came running back and Harry, once again breathless, asked, "Which way *huff* to Professor Flitwick's charms class?"

"Down that corridor, turn left, up the stairs to the next floor above. Room 437." She replied. He gave a quick thanks and dashed off in the direction she indicated.

* * *

The day went rather well, considering.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs shared a large number of courses together. Their first, Charms, was with Professor Flitwick. Harry liked the diminutive professor, even if he did seem startled when he found his name on the roll-call. It was doubly more embarrassing when he fell off of a stack of books he was using for height. Other than that, they began going into the applications and basic understandings of what charms as a whole actually were.

Following that was their first Herbology lesson, again with Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout showed them some of the kinder specimens from Greenhouse 1. They were simpler magical species that witches cultivated in small gardens, the equivalent of decorative flowers or cooking/potion herbs. None too hazardous, but Adrian still wore his dragon-hide gloves to keep his hands relatively clean of the fertilizer and dirt.

History with the Gryffindor House was taught by a ghost, much like the ones that were seen before the Feast, though Professor Binns didn't seem to be able to interact with much outside of the textbook which he read verbatim off of. People like Ronald Weasley had already started nodding off while the more desperately studious like the Ravenclaws and Hermione Granger, were practically stapling their eyelids open to keep from dropping like flies. The entire class was horrifyingly boring-

-until the Professor happened to look up. Whether a rote habit he'd developed years ago or something else, in all of the years he'd taught (and been dead), he would always glance up at the class _only_ after reading the second sentence of the third paragraph of page 20 in the first year textbook; never again through the _entire_ Hogwarts curriculum would he do so.

His rheumy, ghostly eyes wandered over the large collection of students, but he passed over a small section on the Ravenclaw half. His eyes focused for once in his afterlife on the students themselves and he trailed off from his unending lecture as he saw Adrian quietly taking notes and doodling on his notebook.

The class grew confused at the sudden change of pace and began murmuring to themselves, wondering if the teacher had always stopped right then and there. Professor Binns kept staring at the young raven, unable to shake the sensation that something was very off and very… _wrong_ about him.

He quickly composed himself and delved back into his lecture on the Goblin Rebellion of 157 B.C., but at a much faster pace with slightly more 'presence' in his voice. It was certainly more memorable than his previous droning, but the specter kept casting anxious looks at the Ravenclaw student, always looking away hastily if the jet-black eyes met his own.

* * *

Dinner that night was a loud, rambunctious affair. Lots of First Years were anxiously clamoring to talk about the first day while older students were complaining about the workload and upcoming anxiety.

Nick had volunteered to stick around the Hufflepuff Table today to get to know people like Susan and Hannah. An older boy, Cedric Diggory was also pretty friendly, so they were pretty open to talk to.

Adrian and Harry on the other hand, had experienced the infamous Ravenclaw Anti-Socialism. Every student was practically nose-in-a-book or reviewing notes and weren't up for interruptions or polite chatter despite their earlier desperation to get to know the two. Adrian was perfectly happy with this and content to eat in silence. Harry 'popped' his lips in boredom between bites, gazing around at the heads and eyes just barely visible above a textbook or stack of papers.

Salvation for him came when two familiar, glamoured figures (and a canine) arrived in the entrance door. Nick pardoned himself from the Puff table and walked over to snag a seat at the Ravenclaw Table with Jeff and Toby close behind.

Jeff had his usual white-hoodie-black-jeans get-up while Toby actually had two differences to him. The paper mask was still firmly in place, but his arms had double-wrapped bandages covering them down to his gloves and buckled at his hip was a small, red canister sloshing with a strong-smelling liquid as he walked.

"So," Jeff said, sitting down and grabbing some stew, "How was the first day?"

The group relayed their studies and what they'd learned in the three classes so far. They glossed over the questioning and the night before, but could tell that it was implied and understood. Adrian (experimentally) vocally insulted the ravens on their social skills, and they shared a quiet snicker as not one seemed to leave their literary isolation.

"So how are things back at the Mans- at home?" Nick amended quickly.

Jeff shrugged feeding Smile some unglazed ham, "Solomon's just got us doing the usual chores, EJ's going nuts with this research stuff, and LJ's been a royal pain in the ass. Like normal, y'know?"

Toby nodded, "Yeah, but the jobs are actually pretty toned down. Sle… He's got us sticking around I think so we'll be here for you guys on the first week. Said something about telling his bosses he's on leave for this week, so the job flow's pretty low."

Harry nodded, "Sounds really boring."

"Not really, I've been studying those textbooks he got!" Toby proudly announced, "I bet I know your books better than you at this point."

"Really?" Adrian smirked, "Well then, what's Martengill's Law of Relative Magical Consumption with space-expansion charms."

Toby deflated, mumbling, "Well, I mean I'm not _that_ far into the chapter, yet." He quickly perked up again, "But I _can_ say I've been studying British culture."

"Really?" Harry asked, interested.

"I'm not buying it." Adrian said flatly, "What exactly did you research?"

"All the classics," Toby exclaimed, "Mitchell and Webb, Monty Python, and I even found a few episodes of the _old_ Doctor Who!"

"Ooh, which one?" Nick asked, grinning.

"Tom Baker!"

"He's definitely a classic." Nick conceded, nodding.

Adrian sighed, "Toby, those definitely do _not_ count."

"Oh, yeah?" The twitchy killer folded his arms, "I studied Dickens, too."

Adrian actually raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Really? Wow, I'm impressed. Which works did you get to?"

"First off, I feel insulted," Toby pouted, "Also, it was a Christmas Carol."

"Which version?" Adrian asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Toby fidgeted and became mildly interested in the fork to his left.

"Er… um…" He mumbled sheepishly, "The Muppet one."

"I rest my case." The spirit said with finality, spearing a potato slice.

Jeff interrupted, "Anyways, so we're actually going to be sticking around tonight. That room with the painting Sol set up? That's the guest room for now, so we'll be available if you need us. Pretty much one person will be in the room at all times, but the rest may be… walking around, y'know?"

Harry nodded. Slendy had discussed the possibility of having the stealthier wards patrolling the halls at night to explore the castle as well as keep an eye on the wizards and wards. They knew how to 'vanish' pretty easily and, if need be, incapacitate someone without them knowing until they were bludgeoned over the head and would (most likely) forget the encounter completely.

The meal progressed pretty steadily until Harry finally noticed the smell properly, "Toby? Why do you have that canister with you?"

The masked killer glanced around and muttered, "I just got back from a job and didn't have time to change much. I've still got some cuts under the bandages and I completely forgot about the gas until we walked in the Hall."

Harry's eyes widened and he cast suspicious glances around the room, locking eyes momentarily with Granger as she stared concernedly at Toby's hip.

* * *

Is that…?

No, it couldn't be…

Although it certainly does look like it…

Hermione considered everything as she sat alone at the Gryffindor Table. She hadn't made any friends yet, but… it was only the second day… she'd find people… eventually…

In the meantime, she had the library and all the books and knowledge she could find.

However, the main point of concern at the moment wasn't her relative loneliness, but the mysterious people two tables down. She learned from the rumor mill (or rather overhearing other girls chatting through the rumor mill) that Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts with a _family_. Apparently he'd been adopted into a family who were rather unwilling to answer any questions put to them. Especially so, considering their intimidating guardian; Mr. Lindermann.

She was grateful he had managed to stop Ron from eating like a pig (at least for the rest of the initial Feast), but her skin crawled with how uncomfortable his terse responses and silence made her.

Now, there were two that had returned; the one with a complete disregard for the rules and brought a dog and another… odd one that she hadn't been able to talk to since he stayed at Ravenclaw. He wore a surgical mask and while she'd heard of people in Eastern Asian countries adopting that in the event of a contagious sickness or similar, that hadn't made it really to Europe. So, his surgeon's mask certainly made him stand out quite a bit.

Though, this evening, he walked in with his arms completely covered in bandages! She could see small splotches of red seeping through the fabric and gauze! What's more, he brought a small, red canister of petrol right into a school! At any normal school he would be taken away in handcuffs and the school would be under lockdown at the very least. Here, he waltzes through right under the professor's gazes and simply sat down with an entire liter of hazardous chemicals!

She had to report this, tell Professor McGonagall. The Gryffindors had her Transfiguration class this morning and she seemed reasonable.

Her eyes shifted slightly and she became aware of two piercing, green eyes staring at her. She didn't know what to do and maintained the stare for a moment before looking away nervously. She had to tell… or maybe it wasn't what she thought…

A small twinge of relief flooded her as she considered, perhaps it was simply a prank, a joke, or just an unfortunate circumstance that required a totally safe liquid being transported in a canister meant for flammable materials. After all, who in their right mind would carry around a canister of petrol?

She laughed at her paranoia, but still felt uneasy about it.

That in mind, she decided to wait.

And watch.

* * *

The dinner ended quietly. Harry would notice Granger occasionally glancing at Toby, but for the most part she didn't approach them, didn't question them, didn't call them out, and didn't do much of anything aside from look. When they got up to leave, Harry pointedly noticed that she stayed and didn't follow. He even double-checked as they walked away and he didn't see the give-away bushy, brown hair.

Toby and the others made their way to the portrait (the password for it being 'Ninety Two Entirely Evil Things to Do' for the time being).

The night was quiet and not one of the Professors or Prefects noticed an extra person stalking the dark halls, knife shining at their side or hatchet gleaming in the moonlight.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright as three Professors made their way through the hallway of portraits. The Headmaster was smiling politely despite the early morning. Professors McGonagall and Snape both looked ready to chew the head off of the first student to make any part of the normally-already-strict teacher's irritated.

Professor Dumbledore had instructed two house elves to wake Minerva and Snape an extra hour so they could freshen up early and follow him to visit their newest guests for a good impression.

McGonagall merely sat up as the creature vanished, muttering under her breath words spoken by the Scottish fishermen of her childhood hometown that would make even a foul-mouthed garden gnome blush to the ears.

Snape, on the other hand, had almost made a house elf shish kabob when he instinctively conjured a metal spike straight at the source of the unknown Apparation crack. Thankfully, the unfortunate elf (who lost the Draw Straws game in the Kitchens to wake the Potions Master) had anticipated it and ducked as the iron bar drove itself a few inches into the stone masonry. The elf squeaked out a "Pr'fessor Dumbley wants you awake, sir." Before popping out as fast as he could.

Thus, here they were, following their questionably-sane leader through the early-morning Halls of Hogwarts. "Albus, may I ask what's come over you?"

"Whatever do you mean, Minerva?" The Headmaster replied patiently.

"She _means_ that perhaps you've taken one too many of those damned lemon drops and it's finally addled your brains." Snape hissed irritably.

McGonagall held up a hand towards the Potions Master, "That's not what I meant, Severus, and you know it."

"But you _were_ thinking it." He remarked dryly,

She neither confirmed nor denied, "I just mean that why couldn't this have been done at a _decent_ and _humane_ time of day instead of 6 o' clock in the bloody morning!"

"Language, Minerva." The Headmaster chided calmly. She looked ready to transfigure his nose into a tea kettle as he continued, "I merely wanted to catch our guests early before any of them left or classes started to ensure we could provide them an invitation in person."

"Invitation?" Snape asked suspiciously, "To what, _exactly_, Headmaster."

"Oh, just a nice, quiet tour of the castle." The Headmaster said airily. "I want Mr. Lindermann to trust us with Mr. Potter's wellbeing instead of being a constant presence. So, I figure we shall give them a general tour of the classrooms, the owelry, the astronomy tower, the dungeons, (the dormitories), the hallways-"

"What?!" Snape interrupted, hearing the mumbled part, "I'm not allowing Potter's spawn into my snakes' dormitories!"

"Relax, Severus," Dumbledore assured him, "Mr. Lindermann will be present as well. I'm sure Harry will be under careful watch." His calm airiness turned serious and stony, "We need Mr. Potter here at Hogwarts. We cannot allow Mr. Lindermann to feel uncomfortable with this choice. Perhaps showing him around will assure him that everything is safe."

"Except for the third floor." Snape countered.

Dumbledore shrugged, "Oh, we'll just… touch on that, yes? Say it's under renovations at the moment?"

"Renovations that cause people to 'die a painful death'?" He quoted.

The old man winced slightly at his word choice repeated back to him, "Hmmm… muggle construction sites are rather dangerous. Falling bricks and stones, magical ward imbalances, they all qualify as 'painful deaths', so we just assure him that it's only _temporarily_ dangerous." He emphasized.

"I still don't understand why you feel the need to have those in the first place. I mean, a chess set?" McGongall said tersely, "I could do much more that would help ensure the Stone is better guarded."

"Careful, Minerva," Dumbledore said, glancing about, "It's unwise to speak so freely."

"Of course, Headmaster."

They reached the portrait in question. Dumbledore knocked on the frame and they stood, watching the girl in the portrait facing away from them towards the meadow behind. After a minute, the headmaster coughed, but the portrait didn't move an inch.

"Miss?" He said calmly, "I wish to speak to you."

Nothing.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Snape snarled, striding forward. "This is just some muggle portrait. I have no clue what this man intends to pull, but I will not be played for a fool!"

He lifted the portrait off the wall hook and-

-stared at the blank wall underneath. To be sure, the Potions Master put his hand against the wall and felt only the cold stone of the castle. "Minerva, are you sure this-"

*teeheeheehehe*

He stopped as a tiny, tinkling sound of laughter was heard from his hand. He looked down at the portrait and slowly placed it back on its hook. The girl was still facing away from them, but a tiny bit of her head had shifted so her face was more visible.

"Ah, my dear, hello." The Headmaster said cheerily. "May we speak with you?"

The girl finally moved. She was a fair-faced young woman in an old, white sunhat covering curly, brown hair. She got up off of the picnic blanket and smoothed out her white and blue dress before walking towards the portrait 'window', her figure growing as it approached. Finally, she was right at the window almost like an actual person just through a doorway.

"Could you please open, Miss?" Dumbledore requested kindly, eyes twinkling.

She grinned cutely, but shook her head. Dumbledore's smile twitched as he tried again, "Miss, I am the Headmaster of this great school and I am requesting entry to speak to the occupants."

Her grin was still in place, but her head angled down, shadowing her eyes a bit sinisterly. She shook her head again and spoke in a melodic voice, "No password, no entry."

The old man felt affronted, "Now see here, I am the Headmaster and I refuse to be barred from a room in my own school!"

"Professor Dumbledore," McGongall asserted loudly. The tension dissipated as the three others turned to her. She addressed to the portrait politely, "Now, Ms… Emily, was it?" the portrait nodded, "Could you possibly contact whomever is inside the room and tell them we wish to speak to them as soon as possible."

The girl dipped in a brief curtsey before running off through the field behind her and approaching a tall, oak tree just above the picnic site. She ducked behind the tree trunk for a moment before returning and resuming her position on the picnic blanket.

A moment later, the portrait swung open on a hidden hinge. Mr. Richards stood, blinking blearily at them, his lower face obscured by his almost ever-present surgeon's mask. "Waddayawan?" He slurred.

"We wish to extend an invitation to you and your family," Dumbledore said, undeterred, "Is Mr. Travis in? I understand he was with you last night."

The boy seemed to need to think it over before his eyes widened slightly in realization and grunted towards a lump of a figure still sleeping, completely hidden under the covers, with his large Husky dog sprawled on top. Snape sneered at the unsanitary space, but didn't say a word.

The old man nodded and handed the young man a letter, "I suppose you could give this to Mr. Lindermann next you see him, yes?"

Toby nodded as he took the letter, tossed it on the desk and collapsed in the bed fully-clothed as the portrait swung closed.

They started walking away as McGonagall began sputtering. "T-that's it!? Just… throw them a letter and walk away? We could have done that anytime!"

"Yes, my dear, but we've learned far more than you believe," The older man replied evenly, "Severus, perhaps you noticed?"

"The beds." He muttered, eyes narrowing a tad.

Dumbledore nodded. "There were three beds, presumably one for Mr. Lindermann himself, one for Mr. Travis (and, evidently, his dog), and the last for Mr. Richards. Of those three, only one had someone in it and the other two were almost completely untouched."

Minerva frowned as she vaguely recalled that. Dumbledore continued, "The bed Mr. Richards just dropped into was previously made and precisely kept by the house elves as was the other bed for Mr. Lindermann. _However_, I distinctly recall Mr. Lindermann visiting just briefly late last night to go over some paperwork I owled him about."

"So, neither Mr. Lindermann nor Mr. Richards slept in those beds." McGonagall surmised. Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "But I told you how Mr. Lindermann is perfectly capable of travelling on his own, perhaps he simply decided to go home. Perhaps Mr. Richards accompanied him and only just arrived this morning?"

"That is a distinct possibility, Minerva, though I wouldn't approach them directly about it. Perhaps that is correct or Mr. Richards may simply be an insomniac and decided to walk about or read last night. I find it a common pastime, myself." He admitted. "Additionally, I don't want to scare them away so early. Perhaps learn where they go over time and if this is a frequent occurrence, but at the moment we'll do nothing and simply let the letter run its course as a normal invitation to a tour this afternoon."

* * *

Breakfast was a normal affair. Adrian was, per usual, still cranky… and slightly homicidal towards any questions this early in the morning. Harry just spread marmalade on his toast and ignored the irritable spirit.

A few minutes in, Jeff arrived with Smile trotting behind him. They chose a section of the Ravenclaw table that was pretty much isolated from the others and it was early enough that there were few others anywhere. Jeff grabbed some bacon and sausages and fed Smile a small plateful before serving himself.

"Where's Toby?" Harry asked. The masked teen didn't follow them in.

Jeff shrugged, "He's in the room, sleeping. It was a pretty long night."

Jeff glanced at the front table where three teachers were already sitting, engrossed in their own worlds as they read the paper or graded some papers. He leaned in and murmured just above hearing levels, "So, we got some visitors this morning."

"Huh, who?" Harry asked.

"Those three; Gramps, Granny, and Greasy." He gave a slight gesture towards the three at the Head Table. "Came really early, too. We had just finished shifts. I got 10 to 2, Toby took 2 to 6, but he stayed up until his shift began so he didn't really get to sleep. They arrived literally a few minutes after Toby settled in. I had to duck under the covers because I couldn't wake up enough for a glamour. Toby wore his mask, so he was okay."

Harry nodded, remembering one time Toby walked downstairs without a mask and half-awake. His glamoured cheek flickered in and out of existence, alternating between normal skin and a gory gash. Jeff continued, "Turns out, they gave us a message, something about a tour of the castle, I think. I dunno, I was half-asleep, too."

He handed them a letter with a small, red seal with 'Solomon Lindermann' on the front. "So, should we send it out?"

Adrian considered the letter he was holding, "I can ask Scath to take it."

"Who's Scath?"

In response, Adrian let out a low whistle, not drawing too much attention. Then, a black shadow flew through one of the owl windows at the top of the Great Hall, circling the room once before landing in front of Adrian. A few students noticed and tracked the bird as it glided down in front of them. Jeff handed over the letter which it grabbed in its beak and immediately flew off.

Meanwhile, up at the Head Table, the three teachers awake at this time watched the familiar, dark bird take off with the invitation they had sent and weren't all too surprised when it returned not five minutes later with a small parchment reply. The older teen read the letter and nodded before crumpling the reply in his pocket.

A moment later, another bird of the same variety arrived carrying a letter addressed to Dumbledore.

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_We are grateful for the opportunity and would all like to attend this afternoon for a tour of Hogwarts._

_-Solomon Lindermann_

Short and brief, but to the point, however by the time Dumbledore glanced up from the letter in his hands, the other letter recipients had disappeared.

* * *

Harry, Adrian, and Nick walked to their shared Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff Transfiguration Class later that morning. However, Jeff, Toby, and Smile all followed behind, Toby having woken up intent on going to a magic class, too.

The second they walked through the door, Toby gasped sharply and ran the length of the classroom, shouting, "Kitty!"

He ran straight to the desk and picked up an orange tabby cat lounging on the surface and immediately started petting it in the crook of his arm. The surprised cat couldn't position herself to get out of his grasp or scratch his arm, particularly with those bandages over his skin. Harry, on the other hand, was amazed the feline could manage to convey a complex facial expression as fear, indignation, and resisting the urge to purr simultaneously.

Jeff held onto Smile's leash tightly as the dog growled at the feline a few feet away, but didn't make any other signs of aggression.

Probably for the better when Toby finally let the cat slip out of his arms and it immediately shifted into Professor McGonagall, stiffly glaring at the shocked teen and the bewildered dog with a faint dust of red from embarrassment. "Mr. Richards, for future reference it's generally a poor decision to grab a cat, no matter how experienced you are with them."

"You doubt my petting skills?" Toby smirked.

The blush deepened as students struggled with silent laughter, "That is _not_ the message to convey, Mr. Richards. Now what are you doing here?"

"We wanted to stick around to see some of the classes," Toby replied perkily. One of the Ravenclaw Purebloods muttered angrily about 'muggles', 'undeserving', 'knowledge', and 'ridiculous'. They were ignored.

"Then, please take a seat somewhere and do not be disruptive!" She sternly replied. Not wanting to get kicked out, Toby sat in one of the corner seats, still with a good view of the chalkboard, but out of the way of the main two groups of students. Jeff and Smile took two in the very back, content to entertain themselves while only partially paying attention.

McGonagall began her lecture by changing her desk, briefly, into a pig and then back again. After that, she began the conceptual analysis of transfiguration and its laws. Finally, she gave them each a matchstick and instructed them to turn it into a needle.

Most of the lesson was largely uneventful, but Nick and Adrian both managed a reaction with their wands. The amnesiac setting his match tip on fire while the bug enthusiast managed to reduce his to silvery, metal filings. McGonagall explained it was simple-enough mistake and gave them new ones.

By the end of the lesson, only a few of the Ravenclaws managed to work their match into a needle. Harry and Adrian being among the first to complete it, but still had to purposefully hide the power of their custom wands. Toby, on the other hand, was groaning with his hand to his head, still swimming over the confusing mathematical applications and theory to transfiguration the Professor spent a solid hour discussing.

The lesson afterwards was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrel. The entire course had potential, but was largely composed of incomprehensible stuttering and an overwhelming stench of garlic that put Smile on edge. The running rumor was that Quirrel kept garlic in his turban for a horde of vampires he met in Albania. Personally, Harry thought he learnt more on self-defense from Masky and Hoodie than this stuttering, nervous wreck could ever accomplish.

His idea of 'defense' is 'run away screaming and hope whatever it is that's chasing you doesn't get wise enough to follow the sounds of your screams to where you're hiding'.

Thankfully, that was the last class of the day and almost immediately after, Mr. Filch approached the Professors at the Lunch Table regarding multiple guests having arrived.

Slender had walked in with BEN, Sally, EJ, and LJ in tow. Jeff and Toby started talking with the group about what the lessons were like as Slender talked briefly with Professor Dumbledore. The old man nodded and smiled genially in the soft-spoken conversation before he turned to the four Heads of Houses at the table and they finished up their Lunches. Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick collected Harry, Nick, and Adrian from their tables and led the group out to the Great Hall.

Once outside, Professor Dumbledore spoke, "I'm afraid the Minister has seen fit to request a rather sudden meeting this afternoon. I'm afraid I will be indisposed for the rest of the day." He ignored Snape's muttering against Fudge and turned towards the Gryffindor Head, "Minerva, I trust you to be able to give an excellent tour for our guests. Yes?"

She smiled at the group and nodded, "Of course, Headmaster." The old man left in the direction of his office. As soon as he was out of sight, the Potions Master huffed.

"I will be available _only_ for the _few_ minutes of the Slytherin Common Room tour," Snape said tightly. "I will be in my office. Alert me when I am needed." With that, he left towards the dungeons, black robes billowing ominously in his wake, faint mutterings fading in the distance.

McGonagall suppressed a sigh before leading the group along the halls. First, she showed them the owelry and explained the basics of owl post and owl care. Nick was greeted by Hedwig, who preened at the adoration from Sally. Adrian gave a faint smile at Scath sitting ominously on a rafter completely devoid of owls, the closest whom eyed the shadowy messenger bird apprehensively.

A short walk after with Professor Sprout leading got them to the Hufflepuff dormitories. She told them the passcode barrel-tap (even Harry and Adrian) on the basis that the house doesn't really care to exclude anyone from the common room. The room was hidden behind a false barrel top as tall as the ceiling embedded in the wall that would open with a wand tapped to the tune " .Huff-le-Puff" or would douse the intruder in vinegar if they failed their attempt.

It was like Nick had described. Very cozy with warm, earthy tones in the furniture aside from a few banners with bright yellow and black patterns. The center had a huge hearth with a large cast-iron pot steaming above it with several large bushes in pots along the walls with labels like 'rose hip', 'jasmine', 'Camellia', and so forth.

They left and walked up several flights of stairs while being shown the astronomy tower, Quidditch pitch, and greenhouses through the windows on the way until they found the Ravenclaw eagle statue. Flitwick answered the riddle it presented and gave a short lecture on the history behind Ravenclaw and the Dormitory. Harry and Adrian even showed the artificial sky above their dormitory beds, which impressed Sally immensely.

On the way to the Gryffindor Tower, McGonagall made sure to point out her own office along the way. They approached a large portrait of a heavyset woman in a pink dress when McGonagall spoke 'Caput Draconis' and it let them inside a richly decorated red and gold common room. Several comfortable-looking armchairs huddled around a fireplace while many more littered around with tables and desks nearby.

The Transfiguration Mistress happily told them some of the history of Gryffindor House and the Common Room. As she spoke, students milling around excitedly whispered about how Harry Potter was in Gryffindor at last. Several presumed he had been re-sorted and the rumor spread like wildfire until the youngest Weasley bounded down from the stairs to the boy's dormitory and walked right up to the still-in-Ravenclaw-Boy-Who-Lived.

"Hiya Harry! I heard about your re-sorting. About bloody time, I'd expect to go mental being around those know-it-all Ravenclaws all the time."

"Mr. Weasley!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, mortified. She was internally grateful Filius had to leave shortly after the Ravenclaw Tour to deal with some of his students. She was rather certain Mr. Weasley would find some aspect of himself charmed in an uncomfortable manner. The redhead looked like a deer in headlights as he finally noticed the stern professor's presence. He paled even faster when he saw the unblinking, onyx gaze of Slender as well.

"Mr. Potter has _not_ been switched to Gryffindor. Professor Dumbledore saw fit to provide his family a tour of the castle and Mr. Brahms and Mr. Thresher are here as well." She spoke tersely. Ron, wisely for once, kept his mouth shut (though, the imposing presence of Slenderman might have helped). He quickly fled back upstairs without a word of apology and McGonagall continued with the lecture, but the cheery atmosphere had left.

The Gryffindor section finally came to a close and the group left with a large amount of red-and-gold students whispering as the portrait door closed.

Finally came the last part of the tour (the part McGonagall was silently dreading). She led them down the many stairwells, drawing things out by giving extra mini-lectures on the history of certain paintings or an archway or something, but in the end she was still at her colleague's office door.

She knocked three times and it was opened almost immediately by the intimidating Potions Master. "It's time for the Slytherin Common Room tour, then that's the last." She said curtly.

He didn't say anything in response, rather just waving his wand over several potions brewing and putting them in stasis as he followed them further into the dungeons. They arrived at a stone wall with an engraving of a snake coiled around a staff. "Machiavelli" Snape uttered.

The wall opened inward and they filed inside. Snape sent his worst glare to every single snake in the room and they quickly fled out the door or to their rooms, while still casting dirty looks behind them; some outright infuriated that 'muggles' were let into the Slytherin Common Room. After the mad scramble of students, Snape turned to the group and spoke softly, "This is the Slytherin Common Room, as you've undoubtedly surmised. Do not leave here as students may not take _kindly_ to strangers being by the dormitories. You may look about, but do not touch anything."

The three Hogwarts students were impressed at the common room. It was a lot darker with a dreary feeling. Very unlike the Hufflepuff Room. The air was slightly chilled and there was a faint smell of lakewater constantly around, but without the mildew or 'fishy' smell it usually comes with. The windows were tinted, but let in filtered green light that seemed to shimmer against the glass.

The others began to wander around, under the watchful eye of the Potions Master and Deputy Headmistress. Minerva had only been down to this room on few very rare occasions and was not eager to stay for long.

Slender walked up to Snape almost immediately, "I'm impressed. This seems like a very quiet room."

The potioneer raised an eyebrow, but nodded cautiously, "You'll find that, unlike _Gryffindors_, we respect each other's desire for privacy and peace. Loud noises or games are taken to a side-room just through there, this room is primarily for studying, reading, or relaxing in relative silence." McGonagall's mouth tightened at the jibe against her house, but remained silent.

"Although, I am curious where this room is. I'm trying to mentally figure out the castle."

"We aren't actually within the castle walls that can be seen from the outside," Snape admitted. "The entire common room, here-" He gestured upwards.

"-is under the lake."

Above them was a large, circular glass window letting in light filtered a light, murky green with the occasional fish or lake debris drifting by.

Slender's heart froze as he whirled around to find-

BEN.

The young blonde was directly beneath the window, staring upwards and rigid as a statue. His breath was coming out in short, halting gasps and his eyes darted around unseeing. "BEN?!" He exclaimed.

The boy's breathing became more erratic as he started hyperventilating. Each out-breath was accompanied by unintelligible, whimpering attempts at speech. He suddenly looked down, eyes screwed shut and his arms grasped around his head, hugging it awkwardly. BEN bolted straight at the door marking the exit and flung his body against it frantically, only making the door thud loudly with each impact.

Snape and McGonagall were completely confused and alarmed. Out of nowhere, one of Mr. Lindermann's wards suddenly goes into a complete fit and starts trying to injure himself in the process.

BEN finally took his hands off his head and found the doorknob. It took a few tries to get the door fully unlatched but once it was, he shot straight out the door and down the empty hallway, not hearing any of the cries behind him.

Snape and McGonagall were following closely behind as Solomon took enormous strides to catch up with the panicked boy. They followed the choked breathing through the many hallways of the dungeons until they finally found him squatting in a ball in the center of an empty hallway. The Transfiguration Mistress was about to approach when a sudden bolt of lightning shot out from the boy's form towards a metal sconce nearby, startling her back.

The arc blew apart the magical ember of Ever-Fire and the sconce went dark, the dimmed light revealing the multitude of tiny tendrils of electricity now jumping from around his form. Solomon calmly walked forward towards him as the other wards finally caught up.

The guardian ignored the dangerous arcing around him as he knelt in front of the blonde and started speaking lowly. A few seconds later, the lightning subsided and BEN fell down, curling into a fetal position as Solomon picked him up.

McGonagall broke out of her hesitation and rushed up, "Mr. Lindermann, what in Merlin's name happened?!"

Slender was already walking in the direction of the Hospital Wing, carrying the still form in his arms, "I'm afraid Benjamin suffers from severe anxiety, especially near water. I should have warned you prior, but I hadn't expected something quite like this."

"Mr. Lindermann, I can fetch a Calming Draught if he needs it." Snape suggested. McGonagall was honestly surprised at the offer while Slender just nodded in appreciation.

"No, thank you, Professor Snape," he replied, "I believe the worst of it is over. He's had panic attacks prior and he should recover with time."

"And the electricity?" Snape asked, pronouncing it correctly.

Slender shrugged, "That's actually new to me. As far as I can tell, he's never done that before, but then again, he's never been directly _beneath_ water before either since the incident that caused this phobia in the first place."

Neither professor decided to mention it further. They made it to the hospital and Madame Pomfrey had BEN set into one of the beds before immediately casting a multitude of diagnostic spells and charms over him before Slender could object. He waited in tense silence as she read the readings, praying the glamours held up against whatever magic that was.

At length, she nodded and turned to him, "Aside from the panic, he's perfectly fine. He seems to have retreated into himself, for lack of a better phrase, but it doesn't seem comatose. I suspect he'll be like this perhaps a day or two at most. Is it alright to keep him here for the time being?"

Slender, relieved at the save, nodded, "Thank you, Madame." He turned to the Deputy Headmistress, "Professor McGonagall, I believe we can conclude the tour on that note. Don't worry, this was entirely my fault and I apologize for it. I'll take my wards back shortly after Dinner tonight, is that alright?"

McGonagall was extraordinarily relieved that this accident hadn't driven the guardian off. What's more, he didn't place any sort of blame on the school at all. She watched as he met with the rest of his wards just arriving and followed Adrian towards the library, presumably to wait until dinner.

The Transfiguration Mistress approached the bed with the small, unconscious form. There were no marks that would suggest the lightning that erupted from his body just moments before. She turned to Madame Pomfrey, who was documenting his patient information on a clipboard. "Poppy? May I ask you something?"

"Of course, Minerva." She paused her quill scratching to look up at her.

"During his diagnostics… did… did you find anything odd with a magical core of sorts?" She asked cautiously.

Madame Pomfrey shook her head, confused. "No. All of the scans indicated he had no functional magical core in him. It's expected from muggles, after all."

McGonagall nodded, smiling faintly, "Of course. Yes, how silly of me, though…" She glanced around quickly, confirming the solitude, "May I inform you of something of a secret?"

"I maintain doctor-patient confidentiality all the time, Minerva," the nurse assured her. "I'll be sure to keep it."

McGonagall hesitated, wondering where to start. "It's just that… at the Alley, I brought the entire family to the Leaky Cauldron. Before I had the chance to even inform them of the pub, they had already spotted it. _All_ of them, too. Now, just moments ago, this boy was in the midst of a blind panic and was… sparking with eklektrity or whatever muggles call it."

Madame Pomfrey frowned and waved her wand once more over the still form. A moment later, a small orange light glowed at the end of her wand and she shook her head, "I'm sorry, Minerva, but the scans say he's just as muggle as anyone else. No stable or functional magical core."

Minerva sighed and nodded. All forms of magic confirmed they had to be muggles. Mr. Lindermann, himself, claimed they were nonmagical, yet so much seemed to contradict that.

She walked away from the nurse, who moved on to an unconscious patient who suffered a potions mishap earlier in the day.

She had to tell Dumbledore, she supposed.

* * *

Dinner was slightly solemn for Slender's wards. BEN being in the hospital wing caused Sally to fretfully shred some spare parchment in the library (to Madame Pince's agitation that the shredding sounds were her precious books instead). During dinner, she resumed the nervous habit with several paper napkins, forming a small, growing pile by her near-empty plate.

At the Hufflepuff table's encouragement and prompting, she eventually enjoyed enough dinner (particularly in time for dessert, to her delight).

A main highlight of the meal came when harry ran upstairs in the start of the dinner and came back with a familiar cat-being in his satchel.

Sally walked over and spent some time petting the rodent/feline-thing as several students started to take notice.

"Oi, Potter." Called one of the upper year 'Claws. "What kind of cat is that?"

That grabbed the attention of the others who were not staring at the tiny, yellow muzzle poking out of the satchel to nuzzle Sally's hand. The nearest ones tried maneuvering to see it, but BRVR just became anxious and started retreating into the pouch.

Finally, Harry sighed and murmured to his pouch before taking out his Partner in (murderous) Crime and placing it on the table with a small plate of fruit slices and some beef cuts. As it munched on the meal, the student body stared curiously, or (particularly with muggleborns) amazed. Ravenclaws noted the odd, bright yellow fur coupled with extremely prominent red cheek circles, a curiously-shaped tail, and rather sharp teeth and claws.

"I-is that…?" One of the muggleborn hufflepuff upper years had their eyes practically popping out of their head. "Is that a _real_ Pikachu?"

BRVR grinned quietly and sat on its haunches, raising an arm and mustering the cutest, "Pi-ka-chu!" it could.

Simultaneously, every girl in the vicinity gave a loud 'awww' of adoration while practically every muggleborn murmured 'cool' 'incredible' or something similar. The attraction brought some unwelcome attention, as well. Draco Malfoy, the blonde Slytherin who'd approached on the train, had sauntered over with his large cohorts, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter, I'm rather certain Hogwarts rules stipulate only cats, owls, or toads may be appropriate pets." He said smugly, eyeing BRVR curiously.

"BRVR is considered a cat." Harry responded, petting BRVR's ears. The Pikachu complied with a low purring sound, strengthening the 'cat' argument.

"That _beast_ is not a cat!" Draco retorted, starting forward towards the two. BRVR sensed less-than-friendly intentions and Harry felt small static discharges across its fur as the blonde got closer.

"I _really_ don't think you want to do that, Malfoy." He stated calmly, still stroking BRVR's head.

"Oh, yeah?" The Slytherin smirked as his hand shot towards the Pikachu.

"PI-" The hand retreated.

"You dun goofed." Toby commented across from Harry.

"-KA-"

"Oh, dear." Slender sighed, knowing the inevitable. He leaned away from the Pokemon and the other wards followed suit.

"-CHUUUUUUUU!"

The hall glowed yellow from the discharge at the Ravenclaw table. The teachers were on their feet in a flash their wands out and at the ready.

The shrill screams lasted about 20 seconds and when the display ended and people blinked spots from their eyes, they saw the destruction eminent from Harry's pet.

Malfoy, himself, was coated in smudges of char, his robes smoking and singed at the edges. His slicked-back hair was frizzy and he was lucky the gel had only smoldered instead of fully igniting. Ravenclaw girls around Harry were horrified to find their hair in similar manners (mostly frizzed and bushy, instead of smoldering). A charred black electrical pattern was partially burnt into the tabletop around the now-contented yellow cat-like mouse which hopped on Harry's shoulder and accepted another petting.

Malfoy's eyes rolled upward and he was caught by the (mostly) unburned Crabbe and Goyle who brought him over to the Slytherin table. Immediately, one of the upper years thought to toss a goblet of ice water over him, successfully waking him up to dazed sputtering.

Professors Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Kettleburn (the Care of Magical Creatures Professor) quickly made their way to the scene. "Potter! What are you doing, bringing that dangerous creature in here?!" Snape shouted, angrily.

"It's my pet, sir." Harry responded with somewhat forced calmness. "He doesn't hurt anyone on purpose."

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall began sternly, "Your 'pet' managed to severely injure one of our students. I'm afraid we will need to discuss this incident as well as your companion's continued stay here."

"Now, Minerva," Flitwick began, "You saw as well as I that Mr. Malfoy came here and maliciously approached his pet. Even he should understand that if you go up to a creature and provoke it, you will get a none-too-pleasant response."

"That creature electrified him!" Snape argued.

"And for a normal cat, it would have clawed or bit him," Flitwick countered. "Yes, its methods of self-defense are curious, but still self-defense. Mr. Potter's pet was very well-behaved prior to the altercation."

"BRVR doesn't hurt anyone without provocation," Harry confirmed, "He's actually pretty shy." The small pokemon nuzzled his palm in response.

McGonagall sighed, "Mr. Potter, I take this is the 'BRVR' you had mentioned in Diagon Alley?" He nodded and she looked sternly at the pokemon that shied away from her gaze. "Is he even a cat?"

Harry bobbed his head to the sides, "He's technically a 'mouse', but he hates water, purrs if you pet him, eats meat, chases mice, and uses a litterbox from time to time. Plus, he looks pretty cat-like. Though, he likes to use a large hamster wheel, eats fruit with his forepaws like a rodent, and he'll sometimes gnaw on his scratching post."

Flitwick nodded, "It seems cat-like enough to me, Minerva. Plus, one of your lions brought his pet rat and another brought a tarantula. I believe we can excuse this as long as it doesn't cause any lasting damage."

"What about the table?" She enquired. In response, Flitwick waved his wand over the table and the burn marks repaired themselves, leaving perfect wood behind. "What about Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, what about Mr. Malfoy," Snape glared. The Slytherin was trying to fumble to his feet, but kept collapsing into Pansy Parkinson's arms (to his housemate's and peers' amusement).

Harry shrugged, "He'll probably be tingly and numb for an hour or so, but it'll wear off, sir."

Slender walked over early in the conversation and chose to speak, "Professor Snape, I feel it's pertinent to tell you that we discussed BRVR's behavior and his attacks, at most, will stun others. I'm not sure about your familiarity with the muggle world and electricity, but I presume you all are aware of what happens when a person meets an… unfortunate end in a lighting storm."

The four paled along with several students who glanced at BRVR's innocent face. The small cat-like pokemon seemed to bare its teeth in a very-_not_-cute, feral grin at the apprehension and discharged a few sparks of electricity from his cheeks to emphasize a point.

Slender continued, "Needless to say, he can control himself well and I have confidence nothing of the sort will happen." BRVR cowed back at the stern glare from the guardian and the discharges stopped as he hopped back on Harry's shoulder and cuddled into the crook of his neck.

"Now I've gotta ask, what kinda creature is that?" Kettleburn asked in a slightly heavy accent, brining his hook hand to his chin in thought. "Haven't seen anythin' like it and I teach Magical Creatures."

Harry smiled at BRVR, "He's actually not supposed to exist, per se. He just showed up one day and he's been with us ever since."

"I believe you'd call it 'accidental magic'." Slendy offered helpfully. The professors were all stunned at the seemingly impossible feat of constructing a living organism, but there was the proof, sitting on a student's shoulder.

Several muggleborns of varying ages all began to approach and BRVR seemed calm enough to let himself be pet by the not-too-overeager ones. The teachers eventually retreated back to the table for the remainder of the dinner. As it wound to a close, Solomon gathered his wards and led them towards the Great Hall.

* * *

Slender stopped them just before they walked out the entryway towards the gates. "Now, Harry, I want you and your pet to _behave_, understand?"

Harry and BRVR both gave affirmative nods as Slender continued, "Now, the patrols are shifting. Toby is returning with me, but Jeff has offered to stay an extra night to show the new patrol around and will keep Smile as well. EJ and Sally will be joining them; a partition is available in the room to allow Sally some privacy."

Toby moved towards the group as Sally and Eyeless Jack moved closer towards the disguised serial killer. "Now, I will be patrolling the forests tonight, so I won't be able to be contacted, not that I expect anything to occur.

"The room is on the second floor, behind a painting called "Family Portrait". If you need, ask Harry or Jeff as they've been there before."

"Yeah, hey Slendy, where'd you find that painting anyways?" Toby asked.

"It was recovered on an assignment in a different sector of the Council. The wife is dead and the husband is undergoing severe psychiatric treatment in a human hospital, so neither is an issue. They kept the portrait in storage, but I borrowed it for 'good behavior assessment'. I explained that she can stay out as long as she simply guards the entryway during the school year and she agreed."

He looked around at the group in front of him, "Now, BEN is in the hospital at the moment. I hold full responsibility for that, but we must be careful and assign a watch around him regularly until he recovers, understand? Adjust your patrols accordingly."

Jeff gave a mock-salute as he led Eyeless Jack and Sally through the hallways, Sally eagerly pointing at everything and having the older boy explain it while EJ calmly tapped his cane against the flagstones in front of him.

Slender led the group away and out the front door towards the edge of the ward line to take them home. That left Harry, Adrian, and Nick standing in the Entrance Hall.

After a while, they made their way to their respective dorms after discussing (and lamenting over) the substantial amount of homework each received. The rest of the day calmly wound down.

* * *

McGonagall walked the dark, eerie hallways of Hogwarts. She was currently patrolling the carpeted hallway completely filled with mirrors, portraits, and statues, so only the light of her Lumos allowed her to see.

The silence and loneliness wasn't terrible, though. It gave her time to think, certainly. After all, given the past three days, much had happened to practically make her head spin with confusion.

Solomon Lindermann's curious form of Apparition, being one. He seemed so muggle, but no muggle could possibly hope to achieve something as advanced as group Apparition with such a large number of people. It defied all magical standards!

Then, there were the wards, collectively, that seemed magical, but none of them claimed to have shown any form of magic and genuine surprise when she explained it to them. The boy, Benjamin, during his panic attack had displayed what she could only explain to be extraordinary accidental magic, but Poppy's diagnostic confirmed he had no magical core and, therefore, no way to channel magic in that way.

As of yet, he hadn't awoken and Poppy had marked him down as an official patient in the Infirmary. She forbade visits outside of his family. The Hufflepuff upper year girls had become fond of him and his foster sister Sally. After seeing Sally's distress at dinner, they sent a gift basket up to the hospital. Poppy had performed multiple scans for any possible anti-muggle curses or even a harmful prank that might aggravate his condition further. McGonagall had suggested placing wards around his bed as she suspected some Slytherin students may take the opportunity to hex the poor boy if the medi-witch were ever away.

She sighed, praying he'd recover safely. She had to return to her patrol. She turned the corner-

-and stopped, surprised.

The corridor was wide and open with several, large windows letting in moonlight. The pale, white light shone down on a small figure quite literally skipping through the hallways. She recognized the form immediately as one of Solomon's wards.

"Ms. Williams!" She called out, the figure halting her movement, "I must ask what exactly you are doing out so late." She said sternly.

The figure didn't' turn around, but she didn't run away either. McGonagall made quick, long strides toward her. "Ms. Williams, have you _any_ idea what time-"

She was stopped as the figure turned and large, doll-like green eyes glowed and bored into her own. In the pale light, the red streaks of blood running down her face against pale skin stood out starkly. McGonagall backed away in horror and she noticed the figure wore a mud-stained nightdress with splotches of crimson marring the pink cloth around her shoulders.

The girl spoke barely above a raspy whisper, "**_Play with me_**?"

Her terrified stammers were cut off as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps clattering against the stonework. She quickly turned her head and saw Professor Quirrel walking down the hallway with an oil lamp in hand. She turned back and saw the apparition was gone.

"P-P-Professor M-McGonagall? Are y-you alright?" He stuttered.

McGonagall turned away from the man and swept the area, rushing about to anywhere a child could possibly hide behind. Anything to confront the perpetrator for pulling such a macabre prank. Eventually, she turned towards the confused Defense Professor, "Where did the girl go?"

"W-w-where did w-who-?"

He didn't finish as she continued, "The girl, of course! A little girl right in front of me, I could've sworn it was Ms. Williams, but… it couldn't have been." She pushed a finger to her forehead, a small headache building.

Quirrel smiled indulgently, "M-Minerva, I-I-I think you m-may need s-some sleep. I'm n-no medi-wizard, b-b-but I can tell if y-you're seeing things, y-you probably need h-h-help or rest." He led the confused Transfiguration mistress through the halls towards her rooms.

Wizards don't tend to notice the obvious, so in the dim moonlight, both magical teachers missed how the nearby statue of Keira the Kind was reading her stone storybook to a large group of children with one more girl than usual.

* * *

**AN: I own nothing**

**-Crow**

* * *

**-The Family Portrait: "A Family Portrait" by L. Chan**


	27. Potions, Portraits, and Pasts

**AN: More date/time mangling. BEN died early 2000's, but from the official pasta, his game was played in 2010 (ergo, he was "released" then). Majora's Mask came out around 2001. Let's just say the game was played in 2003-2004 and leave it at that, kay?**

**Just a warning; really Dark stuff ahead.**

**I own nothing**

**-Crow**

* * *

The day began fairly peacefully, though a feeling of tension was obvious among the first year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. This morning would mark the first of many dreaded classes with the resident Dungeon Bat.

Potions.

Whispers had already circulated on Professor Snape and his notorious foul mood towards anyone other than Slytherin. As such, the Ravenclaw first years were already nose-deep into their potions texts simultaneously shoveling porridge into their mouths (with several comically missing and jabbing their eye or taking a bite of an empty spoon after dropping the glob on their lap).

Harry and Adrian had entertained themselves with the panic and fervor around them. Adrian turned to his fellow raven, "So, what do you think?"

"About Snape? I'm not entirely sure. I mean, the rumors all say he's horrid and from how he followed Dumbledore to deliver the message yesterday, I'd say he's stuck in his camp, but… I'm reserving judgment for now."

He watched as Hermione Granger walked in, balancing two books on potions in both hands as she frantically read from one to another, "Don't Gryffindors have him on Friday?"

"Correct." Adrian was also watching the girl, absentmindedly wondering if someone would trip her.

"Yeesh," Harry blew out a breath, "This whole thing sounds ridiculous! I mean, he's a teacher, he can't be _that_ bad. Right?"

* * *

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new- _celebrity_."

Snape murmured quietly, but his voice carried over the oppressive silence of the dungeons. Harry was already put on-edge by the surroundings, but the deep, resonating voice of the potions master made his skin crawl and he'd almost reached down to where he'd normally store his electrodes (if he weren't in a robe).

The entire dungeon area smelled like stale roots and fungus with a vague hint of chemically fumes from years of potionmaking. The walls looked slightly damp, but were relatively free of mildew and green slime, as partially expected from stereotyped dungeons.

Snape's potions class had several wooden tables arranged with a chalkboard and a desk at the front. A separate cupboard was locked, but presumably held the expensive or regulated school-provided ingredients that normal Apothecaries didn't carry or needed to be kept in better conditions than a student's trunk.

The walls had multiple rows of colorful potions in oddly-shaped bottles with labels in a fine scrawl detailing the potion and its effects. Jars of organs, samples, and specimens floating in a green preservative were littered around the room, adding to the overall 'creep' factor, but reminding Harry vaguely of EJ's personal laboratory.

He finished roll call uneventfully and strode to the front of the classroom, ominously holding sway over the entire, silent classroom. After a few seconds (that felt more like an eternity, to most), he spoke.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Barely above a murmur, but caught by everyone, regardless. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fum- what are you doing here?"

He stopped mid-word as he directed his attention at the door. Everyone turned and saw the small figure poking her head innocently through the opening, green eyes wide and shining as she took in every detail. She shrank back at the cold gaze. "I will ask again. What _are_ you doing here?"

Sally inched forward and swallowed before answering, "I-I wanted to watch everyone making potions and stuff. My brothers are here, so… I… um…" She trailed off, fidgeting with her hands.

"Your brothers?" He asked quietly. He scanned the room and quickly deduced it, "I recall you're one of Mr. Lindermann's wards, then?"

She nodded. "And why are you here?" He pressed.

"Um… I just wanted to see it." She said quietly. "The magic and stuff. I haven't seen any of their other classes, yet."

Snape's onyx eyes bored into the girl's, but he didn't perform any Legilimency. He found himself burning with guilt as, for the second time in this hour emerald green eyes stared back at him. These eyes, however, brimming with a completely innocent curiosity and eagerness that he hadn't seen since Spinner's End.

…

"… Very well…"

She brightened, but he continued sternly, "However, you are to remain in the corner at least two feet from any active cauldron. You are not to _touch_ anything. You are not to _disrupt_ anything. You are not to _break_ anything. Understand? If you grow bored of watching, here is a textbook on the subject that you may find… interesting." He walked to a cabinet and picked up an object off the top shelf before he handed her a thin book labeled 'My First Potions Tome; A Fun and Interactive Way to Introduce Your Child to Potions (Age 8 and Up)'.

She gratefully thanked him as she quickly hopped her way over to the Hufflepuff side and took a seat next to Nick and his partner, Ernie MacMillan.

Snape cleared his throat, "As I was saying, I don't expect you to understand the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The Ravenclaws were all at the edge of their seats, eager to prove themselves through their amassed knowledge.

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry, startled at being called out so suddenly took a moment to gather himself. He hadn't really remembered that bit from the first few chapters of their potions' texts.

"I don't know, sir."

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut – fame _clearly_ isn't everything." All around the room, the Ravenclaw students' hands shot up, eager to answer the question instead (except Adrian, who just sat in his seat next to Harry). "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly as he began to see the pattern, "I don't know, sir."

The Ravenclaws' hands were not shaking back and forth, practically exploding to try to answer the question. Snape ignored them.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

'Hey!' He thought, brightening, 'I actually know this from EJ's toxicology lesson!'

"Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, just called different things by location also known as women's bane, devil's helmet, Queen of all Poisons, and blue rocket. It's actually referred to by genus Aconitum. It's entirely lethal and ingestion results in burning sensations, cardiovascular arrhythmias, sweating, dizziness, vertigo, and frothing at the mouth. It's believed to have been cultivated from the slobber of Cerberus in the Greek Afterlife, with an association to rabies from the symptoms on humans. A post-mortem autopsy will reveal only asphyxiation as cause of death."

'Take that!' He thought confidently.

Snape, as well as the rest of the class, stared wide-eyed at the somewhat descriptive nature of the toxicity of the plant. Snape cleared his throat, "Well, it seems you have a modicum of thought after all, but bar the unnecessary information, monkshood and wolfsbane are also called aconite which is what you _should_ take out of this. Two points from Ravenclaw for excessive long-windedness."

Harry's face darkened; damned if he did, damned if he didn't, it seemed like there wasn't really a way to win here, was there? Snape continued, "In response to previous questions, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it's known as Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons." He cast a sharp look around the room, "Well? Why aren't you call copying that down?!"

There was a sudden flurry of parchment and quills as the Ravenclaws immediately started absorbing the knowledge.

Nick bulleted the main points on some parchment he'd arranged like a notebook, but cast an apprehensive look at Sally when he heard a soft mutter, just catching "Games" above the rest.

They began mixing their cauldrons, having received the information from the blackboard and their notes. It was supposedly the easiest potion to make; a simple Boil Cure potion, but even that became troublesome as the other Ravenclaws kept rushing about, hording certain ingredients at their station in their ambitious urge to prove themselves at least once in this class. Meanwhile, some of the Hufflepuffs tended to get spooked by either Snape or rushing Ravenclaws and had already dropped a few jars of ingredients, increasing the urgency over the remaining amount.

Adrian was forced to raise his sleeves to continue working while avoiding splash-back onto his robes, causing another incident.

"Well, well, Mr. Thresher, I thought Ravenclaws were meant to be the intelligent ones." Snape sneered, "Intelligence is often lacking when you make such a dunderheaded move as to acquire a tattoo."

Adrian's perma-glamour couldn't vanish his barbed wire completely, so instead it had 'flattened it' into a tattoo pattern that coiled the length of his arm. As he pushed up his sleeves, the tattoo image had to be revealed and Snape noticed it first thing. Particularly since hardly any students had ever gotten a tattoo, typically seen as something rather ritualistic or associated with Dark Arts by other pureblood wizards and most muggleborn students with parents who could afford Hogwarts' tuition would sooner disown their children from the will than permit them get a tattoo.

The other students became interested and stood up to catch a glimpse of Adrian's tattoos before a stern glare from the Professor forced them back into their own work. He addressed the boy again, "I presume Mr. Lindermann knows, yes?"

He nodded silently. The Potions Master simply sneered as the glamoured spirit returned to his work quietly and efficiently. Tattoos were hardly a punishable offence. The dungeon dweller returned to the front of the room, sanding cross-armed as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

Nick worked quietly with his partner. He didn't really appreciate his year-mate, but he shared the first year dormitory with him in relative 'live and let live' peace. However, the MacMillan kid seemed a bit stuck-up at times. Though being outnumbered as the only 'pureblood' boy in the dorm, with three 'muggleborns' (including himself) and two 'half-bloods' he quickly learned he did not have seniority in the room and found himself tied to a chair shortly after trying to 'commandeer' the room to his liking. (Nick even left an added bonus of some arachnid 'friends' to crawl over him when they left. He was squirming and whimpering when they got back an hour later, though the spiders had "mysteriously vanished" just before they walked in)

As he worked, the undead corpse noted from the corner of his eye how Sally had set down the thin book and would discretely pick up some of the dropped reagents and collected a few from the cabinet as well. He saw her mixing in a spare cauldron leftover in the corner, but could only silently send some glances back at her as she haphazardly mixed slimy bits and bobs into the cauldron. Her mixture began to glow a radioactive green and he could catch whiffs of the fumes that burnt his nose like chlorine in a pool.

After a moment of watching the cauldron bubble and simmer, she raised her hand and called out innocently, "Excuse me, Mr. Snape. My potion came out funny."

The older man had just dealt with several near-mishaps with the anxious Hufflepuffs and was infuriated that she'd disobeyed him and had mixed possibly volatile reagents together without caution. "Idiot girl! I told you not to touch anything, and besides, muggles can't brew potions!"

"But I got something. See?" She pointed at the cauldron which everyone could tell by now was glowing in the dim light of the dungeons. Snape frowned and went closer. Indeed she had a concoction boiling in her cauldron, to his confusion.

"And just what did you intend to do?" He asked raising an eyebrow. It didn't look quite right for a boil cure, but even with his extensive knowledge, he couldn't think what this mix could possibly be.

"I dunno. But look, it smells funny." She commented.

"I can see that, girl. It's burning my sinuses as we speak." He said dryly, scrunching his nose at the reminder of the painful sensation.

"No, I mean it smells funny closer to the potion itself." She insisted.

Snape, out of curiosity more than anything, cautiously leaned in closer to her cauldron. The burning did not get any better and he did not smell any-

He suddenly felt tiny, but strong arms suddenly on top of his head, pushing violently downward. He managed to vanish a majority of the concoction with a swish of his wand and a wordless incantation just before his head would have plunged into the mix. As such, his forehead only banged against the steel side of the cauldron and he felt the small hands release him. He wrenched his head from the cauldron, absolutely furious.

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING!?" He roared. He couldn't remember the last time he swore and _really_ meant it, let alone with muggle phrases.

"Aww, I wanted you to get wet. I did it to Harry once as a prank and it was funny. Hahaha." She giggled innocently.

Snape's eyebrows twitched towards concern when he found her speech and body language suggested total innocence, but her eyes bore into him and told volumes of strong ill-intent and frustration that whatever she had been planning didn't work because of his quick thinking.

Completely gone were the eyes that had looked fearfully around the room. These were the same furious eyes he'd seen in nightmares of Lily's vengeful ghost for years after her death. They were enraged at something he had done… but aside from, admittedly, singling out Potter and Thresher, he couldn't think of anything he'd done to make her behave so vehemently.

He walked away fuming and returned to his post at the front of the room. The girl resumed reading the potions text in silence. He ignored the anxious looks of the students at the angry red welt forming above his eyebrow, he'd see Pomfrey for it later. The class finished up without further incident (save for a Hufflepuff's melted cauldron) and they turned in a flask of their potion to a cushioned crate at the front.

He sneered as Potter presented his, but grimaced as he saw the girl next to him smile with her eyes boring into his own. Everyone walked out and he was left in the classroom to clean the mishaps and odd ends for his next class in a few hours. He frowned as he saw a spare cauldron still on its stand in the back. The one the little girl used.

He peered in and found a small amount of the unknown, green potion still remaining at the bottom. It hadn't reduced in potency and still smelled acrid. There was hardly enough to try to diagnose properly, but his curiosity was still strong.

He cautiously poured it onto the tabletop-

-and paled when the wood sizzled and steamed as the potion ate through a large amount of it in a matter of seconds.

*heehehe*

He heard a faint giggle and whirled towards the doorway in time to catch a brief glimpse of a pink dress and brown hair vanishing from the slightly open doorframe. He rushed to the door and wrenched it open to reveal an empty hallway on either side. The hallway was devoid of any alcoves or suits of armor or statues for at least 20 meters on either side of the dungeon door. Nowhere for the girl to hide, but nonetheless he couldn't see her anywhere.

"Miss Williams?" He growled out.

No response.

Frustrated, he turned around, but before closing the door, Snape noticed a piece of paper lying in front of him and he cautiously picked it up. Written in childish scrawl was a simple question. "**Play with me?**" above an image of a crude skeleton in black robes with black, shoulder-length hair.

He closed and locked the door to the distant giggles echoing down the corridor.

* * *

Harry and Adrian walked up the incredible number of stairs late at night, carting heavy, bronze telescopes under their arms. At last, they made it to the top of the tower where a platform extended over the edge already holding a few classmates and the instructor. Professor Sinistra beamed despite the lateness of the night and instructed them to set up at a few locations before handing a star chart and informing them to plot certain planets.

They were partnered with the Gryffndors today, so Nick had the course the next day, instead, with the Slytherin first years. Every so often, a Gryffindor would approach, intent on talking with them.

"Heya Harry!" An irish boy said, "Where d'ya think Jupiter is?"

Harry gave a level stare at the boy, not saying anything until the Gryffindor started becoming increasingly uncomfortable and edged away as the secret killer retreated back to watching through his scope.

"You should really be looking through the North East quadrant first."

Harry's eye twitched at the bossy tone of Hermione Granger. Needless to say, she continued unprompted, "Three of the five planets visible tonight should be in that area. Also, you should have your star chart oriented in the direction you're facing and furthermore-"

"Thank. You." Adrian murmured quietly, but firmly. She opened her mouth to speak more (probably on interrupting someone else) when he pushed just a tiny amount of energy to his eyes and caused them to glow red just enough to be intimidating, but not enough to make her sure of what she saw. She gulped audibly and backed away towards her station as the two ravens continued their assignment.

Harry mumbled under the guise of adjusting his scope's focus knob. "I am about to push whoever comes up next off of this bloody tower."

"And I will help write the suicide note." Adrian agreed quietly.

"Hiya Harry!"

The two felt consumed by the immediate desire to carry out that plan as the obnoxious voice of the youngest Weasley boy projected from just behind them.

"So, have you figured out where Jupiter is, yet? Seamus couldn't tell me and know-it-all Granger is too caught up in her work to share. I figured you're smart and all, being a Ravenclaw, so you'd help a fellow Gryffindor out."

Adrian frowned, "You just literally contradicted yourself. You admitted he's Ravenclaw and then called him a 'fellow Gryffindor'."

"That ruddy hat's gone batty." Ron argued heatedly, "Everyone knows Harry Potter's a Gryffindor at heart. He defeated You-Know-Who, for Merlin's sake! He's obviously a Gryff."

"Regardless," Harry interrupted, "I don't want to help you with your assignment. Just look through your telescope like everyone else."

"Aw, come on, mate. Is it 'cause _he_'s making you?" He gestured towards Adrian. "Shoo! Go on, leave us alone!"

"_He_ isn't the problem here." Harry replied angrily, he was progressively getting closer to just flipping this bastard over the parapets down all thirty-plus stories to the ground below to go splat.

"Right, then, what about that pet of yours?" Ron yammered on, ignorant of the tension aimed at him, "I think it's pretty wicked. Never seen a creature like that, did you find it on your travels or something? Bloody awesome how it took out Malfoy, though. Slimy snake got what's coming to him."

"What?" Harry asked, rage suppressed by complete confusion.

"Y'know, Slytherins! All of them are Dark wizards in the making. Can't trust any of them, you know what I mean?" Ron persisted.

Harry rounded away from his telescope and glared up at the gangly boy. Even though he was easily a foot taller than Harry was, the Weasley backed away slightly. "Look, I don't know what you think, but I was perfectly fine over here before you decided to come over, ask to copy our work, insult my brother, and in general be a nuisance. So, before I lose my temper, _please go away!_"

Ron's nostrils flared as he glared between the two. "Ruddy Ravenclaws. Do you all infect everyone with your stuck-up attitudes?"

"Infect?" Adrian ground out incredulously.

"Yeah! You obviously got Harry Potter, here! He's a Gryffindor no matter what that bloody hat thinks! You'll see!"

At this point, Harry stomped up to him and twisted an arm to force his body down and make his face level with the shorter boy's. "Read. My. Lips. Weasley. 'I DON'T CARE'! Now go away before I drop kick you so far, your head will be stuck in Uranus." As a helpful hint, he pointed to the sky behind him as Ron stomped away towards his station.

Both noticed that less than a minute later, the redhead had maneuvered his telescope in that portion of the sky, fervently tracking around for the planet in question.

Adrian and Harry quietly finished their star chart and left as the annoying boy was _still_ searching the skies. "How long do you think it'll be before he realizes Uranus isn't even visible tonight?"

"Oh, probably morning. Or whenever he gets his head out of his own hilariously-named-planet. Whichever comes first." They shared the quiet chuckle as they made their way back to the Ravenclaw Tower.

* * *

The next morning, the hallway was empty and quiet. No one was out that early or in that specific corridor. It was completely still.

That is, until an inconspicuous mirror amongst the rows of paintings suddenly swung outward, exposing a hidden passageway. A head popped out, swinging back and forth to check if the coast was completely clear before opening it further and allowing his twin to walk out as well. They scurried across the hall to a nearby alcove holding a statue big enough to hide both of them.

"Alright, Georgie, check if the coast is clear." Fred instructed.

The other twin nodded and murmured the passphrase to a simple sheet of old parchment. Lines appeared over it, forming an accurate self-adjusting map of Hogwarts. He glanced around at the nearby area and frowned in confusion. "What the…?"

They froze as voices echoed down the passageway. They tucked further behind the statue as they got closer and closer. The shadows covered them well enough that they peeked past the elbow to see who was coming.

Harry Potter's family walked calmly down the corridor, talking. There was Mr. Lindermann himself, the little girl Sally, Toby, and one of the Jack's but he wasn't tapping the cane like he usually would.

They listened in. "How's Ben?" Sally asked worriedly.

"He's fine, Sally, calm down." Solomon assured her, "He's in stable condition. Madame Pomfrey's magic couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary about him, so his glamour is holding up."

They shared a glance as Fred mouthed 'glamour?' before the adult continued, "Now, he is supposedly going to wake up today, so I arrived to try to catch him when he does. Until then, go about business as usual. Understood?"

They all nodded, except for Edward Jack. He was quiet and looking-

-right at them!

"Jack, is there anything wrong?"

The young man removed his dark glasses, revealing the clouded eyes behind as he seemed to _look_ around the area they were in. They barely dared to breathe, let alone move and give away their position. After a while, he 'hmphed' and put them back on, "Sorry, Slendy, I thought I saw something. It wasn't anything, though."

The supposedly-'blind' teen snapped his fingers in sudden thought, "I just remembered! I think I should leave today. Shiloh was pretty antsy about me leaving from the get-go and I don't want to leave her alone for too long. Especially with Rake or Jeff. I mean, she barely refrains from slashing Tim to pieces and I don't trust Rake with her."

Toby nodded, "Yeah, plus she'd probably rip up the couch cushions to make a throw pillow… again."

"Ugh, don't remind me." Mr. Lindermann groaned. The conversation faded with their footsteps.

After a few minutes of silence, the two carefully walked out from their hiding space. Their hearts hammered against their chests, not just at the close call, but from what they learned. Fred turned to George, "What do you reckon they mean 'glamour'? That's advanced NEWT-level stuff, isn't it?"

"Forget that! I remember hearing that the guy with the glasses was blind. How could he see anything through those eyes?" George insisted. "And this 'Shiloh' girl? They just tossed around the fact that she almost killed someone like it was just the weather!"

Fred nodded worriedly. George jolted with a memory, "And there's _this_!"

He pulled out the map and showed his twin the area around their footsteps inked onto the parchment. Moving away from them was a collection of names and a few footprints, but that was hardly all. In the center was a black symbol instead of footsteps just gliding along without a name label attached to it. It looked like a crudely drawn circle with two lines making a hashed X through it.

Then, next to that symbol, was a pair of faint faded-out footprints that usually marked the resident ghosts' presence. A floating scroll next to it read out 'Sally Williams'. The other two footprints were fairly standard, but the names read out 'Toby Rogers' and 'Jack Nichols'.

"Hey, Fred, didn't that tall bloke introduce that Toby kid as Toby _Richards_?''

"Mm-hmm." The twin replied. "Hey, check the hospital wing." They folded the parchment until they found the one marking the hospital wing. The matron was bustling around a bed with one of the Ravenclaw upper years. In one of the beds was the still form with a floating label reading "BEN_DROWNED. EXE" in a blocky font instead of the usual, swirly script of Moony.

"What kind of name is dot-ee-ex-ee?" Fred read out curiously. He thought of an idea and pointed his wand at the name, sending his intent to the parchment. To their interest, the name changed. Instead was written in the fancy script, "Benjamin $~# %" where the last name became unintelligible scribbles with no indication of a family name.

"What do you reckon this means, Freddie?"

"No idea Georgie, but I've got an idea where to find out."

They looked at each other and nodded.

* * *

The portrait of a young girl in a pastel dress swinging lazily on a dainty swing attached to a willow tree suddenly swung forward as the two notorious pranksters of Hogwarts walked out into the hallway. They scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary.

"Oi, Fred, that wasn't there before, was it?" George was pointing to a rather still portrait on the wall of a young woman on a picnic blanket facing away from the viewer underneath a sprawling oak tree in the middle of a vast field.

They approached and politely tapped against the side of her frame. "Er, Miss? Excuse us." The portrait didn't move an inch, they tapped harder against the frame wondering if sound distance translated into the portrait realm.

"Don't bother, boys." Came a voice from the nearby portraits. They turned their attention to a painting of a rather regal-looking old man. "She never talks to anyone aside from those visitors. Not even the Headmaster, believe it or not. She just sits in place day-in and day-out, never moving from that blanket. Or at least, that's what the Blue Boy says." He pointed to a portrait on the opposite wall of a Dutch boy in blue clothing who nodded.

"Ja, all day she just sits on the blanket, not even moving. If it weren't for the Headmaster trying to get in, we all thought she was a muggle painting." He reported.

"Well, why don't you go ask her yourselves?" Fred asked. He'd seen portraits move between each other on occasion to chat or get out of the monotony of their own frame.

"That's the thing," the old man continued, "she's completely locked to us. I'm not sure how else to put it, but no one can go in or out of her portrait. We can go around her, but never actually visit her."

The twins looked at each other in silent questioning and approached the still portrait. A woman called down from her own portrait, "I heard her name was Emily, if that helps!"

They nodded their thanks and walked up to the portrait. Fred cleared his throat and spoke loudly, "Excuse me, Miss Emily?" Nothing. "May we speak with you? We'd like to go inside the room you're guarding!" She didn't seem to hear or was willfully ignoring them as she just sat still.

"Gred?"

"Yes Forge?"

"Let's show her how the greatest prankmasters in all of Hogwarts can lockpick a simple door." The twins nodded and aimed their wands at the portrait. "Alohamora!"

Nothing.

"Open Sesame!"

Nothing.

Fred growled in frustration. He aimed his wand right at the very corner of the portrait. "Bombarda!" The hex sounded off like a canon, startling the other portraits, but the picture was completely unaffected. Not even the frame he'd aimed at had taken an ounce of damage.

"Oi, brother, let's try this, then." George suggested, pointing to an ancient phrase scribbled in the margins of the Marauder's Map.

Fred pointed to the painting in general and murmured, "_Secreta Revelata Sunt._"

The spell made the whole frame glow for a second before centering on the girl, herself. That actually provoked a reaction as the woman gave a surprised 'oh' and moved her arms around, examining the white glow emanating from them. The spell wore off and she turned towards them, smiling as her figure grew approaching the 'window'.

"Hello." She offered.

"Hey." Fred said in reply. George mimicked him. The portrait giggled at the awkward silence and started speaking again.

"Is there anything I can do for you boys?" She asked sweetly.

They shared a surprised glance, "Er, yeah, we were trying to see the rooms behind you."

"Oh, why didn't you just _say_ so." She tittered, "I'll show you… _after_ you talk with me a while. It gets rather lonely from time to time."

The twins shrugged and George addressed her, "So, you're name is Emily, right? Any last name or something?"

"Nope."

"Who painted you?" Fred tried.

"I don't know." She admitted forlornly, staring at her dainty hands and sighing. "He painted me and left me in his attic for years before I was taken by another man."

They sat in the silence until George noticed the small silver plaque at the bottom of her frame. "Why are you called 'Family Portrait' if you're alone?"

Her face contorted briefly in slight irritation before she resumed her calm smiling. "I bring in my own family."

"Oh, so there are others?" Fred asked, glancing around inside the meadow, half expecting a few figures in the distance playing in the grass.

"No. I'm alone." She said simply. The wind in the portrait rustled past the scene, upsetting her dress and hair and rustling leaves and grass in waves.

The two brothers shifted in unease. "Er, can we go inside now?"

She brightened, considerably. "Of course! I'll let you in right now!"

They were surprised at the sudden shift in feeling to her and her willingness to allow them in. However, their eyes widened in fright as a black mist suddenly reached out of the portrait frame and latched onto both of their ankles. The portraits around them cried out in horror as they were dragged swiftly into the painting with Emily.

They suddenly collapsed into a field of scratchy grass and stood up suddenly. The field was vast and empty, with an infinite void of grass all around them. The only other sights there were the girl and her blanket in a small clearing of cut grass around the large oak. They turned behind them and saw a 'window' standing in the middle of the void showing Hogwarts Hall. Fred experimentally ran over to it and ran _around_ the window, proving it was only existent there and there was an entire field behind it.

The girl approached the two, smiling, "I'm glad you offered to come in. I haven't had many visitors. And the last one didn't stay for too long."

George stared incredulously at her and, impulsively, reached out to touch a strand of her hair. She giggled as he pulled back after making contact, "A-are we in your painting?"

She nodded, "Of course, silly boys. Where else would you be?"

They looked around, stunned, "This is impossible," Fred murmured.

She shrugged and grabbed both boys by the wrist to lead them towards her blanket. She requested they sat down and they found the blanket welcomingly soft and smooth, unlike actual picnic blankets that were usually itchy and scratchy or crawling with ants. Though, on that note, they saw that there was nothing else around them. No crickets or grasshoppers. No birds. No cicadas. Not even ants or spiders crawling across the blanket.

"-a sandwich?"

"What?" They asked in stereo. She giggled.

"I said, would you like a sandwich?" She offered a small plate of delicate sandwiches in perfectly white bread with pink meat in between.

"Er, no thanks." George replied, unsure if eating portrait food was a good idea.

She shrugged and took a bite out of the sandwich herself. She moaned softly as she chewed the sandwich. Fred's mouth salivated at the thought of a really good sandwich, but his stomach suddenly turned into a knot as the perfectly white bread began to _bleed_ with red.

She took another bite and a piece of bloody, red meat fell out from between the pieces. They looked in horror as the meat writhed with squirming maggots. She pardoned herself and picked up the piece, popping it in her mouth- worms and all, citing, "It's quite rude to be wasteful."

She pulled out another small dish from the basket, "Would you care for some liver?" She took off the dish's lid and revealed a large, bloody liver with some green garnish and sliced, glazed onions on the side. The twins bolted upright and ran from the girl as she continued offering gruesome plates to them from her spot on the blanket and her cackle echoed across the empty plains.

They kept running through the infinite void of tall grass, the height getting progressively higher as they retreated from the girl.

Thigh-length.

Waist-length.

Chest-length.

Neck-length.

George reached out to Fred and they grabbed hands just as the grass reached eye-length.

They felt a dip in the ground beneath them and the grass towered over their forms before seeming to give out beneath them. They fell through a split in the earth and looked up at a tear in a void of black before falling and tumbling down further and further. The inky blackness gave way to a kaleidoscope of chaotic colors shimmering around them. They held onto each others' hand for dear life as they screamed.

*thud!*

They landed painfully on something solid. They couldn't tell much other than the fact that they were still holding each other's hands, but at the moment everything they saw seemed rather blurry.

"Are you alright?"

"Boys, are you still with us?"

"Oh, dear, how could this happen?"

They focused on the figures around them and felt themselves being hoisted into sitting positions by two witches and a wizard in some kind of courtroom. The witches fussed over the two as the wizard led them to some chairs by a window. The window let in pleasant birdsong and a welcome breeze to help them clear their heads.

"Fred?" George mumbled, disoriented.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Fred groaned. "You?"

"As good as I'll ever be."

They turned to the three figures as the trio fretted in hushed tones. "Oi, what's going on? Where are we?"

The wizard took decisive action and raised a placating hand in their direction. "Now, boys, I want you to listen and I want you to be calm and rational about it. Just know we will do everything in our power to help."

The two looked at each other in confusion before looking around the room further. There was a chalkboard, several desks with documents and quills, a silent clock on the wall, a multitude of chairs-

-and a window!

Not like the window letting in the birdsong next to them, a window stuck in the middle of the fabric of reality showing the view of the portrait hall in Hogwarts!

They were in the portraits!

The two rushed up from their seats and ran at the 'window' in reality. Instead, they found it like an unbreakable glass. Banging against it furiously did nothing for it and the other side of the window was just blackness.

Fred whirled around to the three worried characters. "How can we get out of here?" He demanded, desperately.

"I'm afraid we don't know, son." The old man replied. "As far as anyone has ever known, this has never happened before."

A few doors just outside of the view of the main portrait 'window' opened and characters from other portraits came in, talking rapidly over one another about the two newest arrivals.

They shared a look between themselves.

"Oh shite."

* * *

He was swimming.

It was a really nice day out, too. A calm, summer day with the cartoony-fluffy clouds drifting across the sky like flat-bottomed balls of cotton. There was a lake by his house that had really clear water and was stream-fed from nearby hills, so it was always cool and refreshing even on really hot days like today.

His mom told him to get outside a bit more, so this was the best way to do it. No muss, no fuss, and no nagging for him to get off of his video game consol.

He floated on his back, enjoying the warm sun on his front and the cool water on his back. Yeah, this was pretty awesome.

*Boom!*

His eyes shot open as the scene shifted suddenly to a very different place. Instead of the calm lake by his home, he was at the beach, or rather in the ocean almost 200 feet from the beach. The waves were enormous around him as the dark, dismal sky above crackled with lightning and poured down rain. A small fishing boat was overturned a few feet from him, the blurry figure of his older brother barely visible clutching onto it, calling out his name over the wind.

"Ben! Swim back to me! Swim back!"

He tried, but the current was too strong against his legs and kept pulling him away from the boat, further out to sea. Another wave crashed over his brother and pushed him further towards shore where he could make out his mother screaming at the top of her lungs for the both of them. A lighthouse had its beam spinning in the dark and heavy rain.

The coast guards were probably revving a boat, but the waves were too strong. They'd been out for too long and didn't see the storm approaching. It was their own fault.

The undercurrent pulled him further away, a wave crashed over his head, stinging his eyes with salt water and making him cough and sputter. The shoreline was getting smaller, the figures getting blurrier in the distance, the shouting becoming unintelligible. The lighthouse was barely a pinprick in the shroud of rain.

He felt an enormous pull against his body as the water heaved behind him into a massive wave. The arc of it towered over him and crashed down right on top of him. He was sent spinning in the confusing mass of freezing blue, frantically clawing towards the surface. He eventually broke it and looked around.

Nothing.

The shouts of his family were gone to the wind. The lighthouse was completely invisible. The waves were crashing all around him and, even still, the undercurrent was still pulling him down.

He had to keep his head above the water.

He had to.

It felt like minutes, hours, days, and the clouds parted above him, letting in a few faint rays of sunlight. He gasped, trying to reach out to it, but he felt his legs give out to the strain and begin to sink.

He looked up at the sun filtering through the water, slowly being obscured once again by clouds.

It felt like invisible hands were pulling him by his ankles; deeper and deeper.

Down.

Down.

Down…

Do…wn…

D…

* * *

He became aware of the world again. He could think… he could _feel_… he knew he was here, he was… somewhere, but…

He opened his eyes.

The world around him was filled with code, green text in an eternal black emptiness. He felt like he was floating in it. He was so confused. What was this? Where was he?

He raised a hand and found the text responded to his command, swirling in front of him into a ring; creating a portal to what looked like a medieval town. Several others formed as well, leading to a dark cavern, a forest, the ominous interior of a mill.

Seeing no alternative, he walked into the nearest one; the town. It was a desolate, Renaissance fair-style town with cobbled walkways and weird buildings. The streets were desolate and he walked forward, towards one of the nearest houses there. The room was empty of anything outside of bare-bones furniture. He found one of the pans hanging on the nail.

His reflection shimmered in passing-

…

He froze and rushed back towards the pan, ripping it off the wall and using the distorted reflection to see his own face. It dropped with an echoing clang as he ran up the stairs in search of a proper mirror. Going in a bedroom, he found an intact mirror above a vanity.

His clothes had become a green tunic, white leggings, leather boots, some green man-skirt, and a matching green floppy hat. His hair was still blonde, but messier and a few inches longer. His ears were long; at least four inches and sharpened to a point, like elf ears.

But his eyes were completely different. He definitely remembered he had blue eyes, but now they were jet black with coal-red irises. Underneath, red blood dripped like tears from his eyes and onto the wood floor.

The Zelda look-alike slowly backed away from the nightmare, stumbling a bit as the world seemed to pitch under him. Then he bolted out of the house, not caring that he knocked over several objects on the way. He had to get out of there! He had to find someone who knew the truth!

He shouted in the stillness, "Is anyone here!? Anybody!? Please!"

He tilted his head up and collapsed to his knees.

BEN stared.

Eye-to-eye with a grimacing face on the enormous moon hanging in the sky above the abandoned city of Clock Town.

* * *

He shot upright, his glamoured heartbeat pounding against his chest like a hummingbird. His eyes had trouble focusing, but when he did he saw he was in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by stone walls and beds. A woman in a white dress and apron with a funny-looking hat hurried over and asked him some questions. They came out as jumbled jargon, so he could only stare in confusion before she rushed out to get someone.

It was all so confusing.

What happened?

Where was he?

Who…?

A tall man approached following the nurse. He shooed her away from his bed as he took a seat in the vacant chair next to him.

'_BEN?_' a voice echoed in his mind.

Ben?

Benjamin?

BEN?

BEN.

"Slendy." He murmured, memories flooding back in place. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid you had an incident. You panicked severely when you discovered you were under water-"

"I was under water?" He interrupted. "How? When?"

The older figure held up a hand, "You weren't directly underwater, you were actually in a room that happened to be underwater, but there was a skylight showing the lakeview and you were unfortunately just beneath it. You've been unconscious for two days."

BEN sat up in his bed, but the warden of the hospital wing rushed over, "Oh, no, young man, you're not leaving just yet. You've only just woken up!"

"What?! C'mon, lady, it's been two days! I'm fine." He insisted angrily.

She put her hands on her hips and glared him down, "I believe _I_ am the matron of this hospital wing, young man. I will dismiss patients as I see fit and, lastly, it's impolite to just call a woman 'lady'."

The virus-boy sat back in the pillow, pouting over childish treatment as she waved her wand over him to run final diagnostics. As he sat waiting, his eyelids felt a lot heavier. "This is stupid," he mumbled. "I slept for two days an' I'm tired again."

He let out a yawn and turned blearily to Slender, "I don't think I'll be goin' to the Sl'ther'n room ag'n. K, Sl'nd'y?" His speech became broken as his mind retreated further back into unconsciousness.

* * *

He was alone.

The void of black and green text was around him once more, but he was still trapped in the game. _His_ game, as he'd discovered. Weeks of exploring the code made him realize this was his own cartridge of Majora's Mask. He was caught in his own game.

Talk about irony.

He sat, pouting and floating in the void, entertaining himself by angrily deleting key components of code that would cause glitches and disruptions at the very least.

*Ping*

His head jolted up at the foreign, but familiar sound of a consol booting up. Suddenly, the void around him exploded into color and sound. He found himself floating above the blocky terrain of the forest that loaded into existence. He saw pixels coalesce into a Link Player on Epona trotting along the path and watched the familiar cut-scene as Link fell into the game's plot.

He followed the player as they moved Link around. He couldn't help but grin.

Something interesting at last.

* * *

He was free!

He glided through the infinite array of blocks and websites and nodes, exploring the vast enormity of the Internet, itself. He was as free as a bird in a sky as big as the Universe.

The world was his oyster and he was going to have fun with it!

That guy he'd been taunting and playing with for the past few months had accidentally allowed him a connection to the Internet and he found the ropes easy enough. The main opportunity came when he uploaded his final post. The guy had been sloppy and allowed a window for him to wait inside the file as he uploaded it online. After that, it was easy to just hop out and enjoy what the world had to offer.

A small, gaming forum caught his attention first off. He saw the data stored and ready to be sold as a brand new game throughout the world! So cool! He browsed the files available, noting a few interesting Flash games and even some online renderings of old Nintendo games! They even had independent programmers offering their work up as downloadable content. One guy offered this one game that (from the snapshots and description) sounded really enticing.

Then… he looked through the game itself…

The code was all red! Viruses, Trojan Horses, heck it even fished for their credit numbers when they bought the damned game!

He couldn't remember much before the first Awakening anymore… but he knew he HATED cheaters, hackers, and scam artists. To do that to him on the internet just from normal content, he considered criminal.

To do that to a _game_?!

Was **unforgivable**.

* * *

The entity sat on the floor near his latest victim. The 30-something-year-old guy's eyes had been blown out of his skull like lightbulbs from the strong electrical surge he'd pumped out of the computer. The corpse even still twitched from stray sparks.

In the other room, the bloody mess of his rotten girlfriend sat in an overflowing tub. He scowled; even the tub's meager amount of water made him anxious.

He caught them trying to run an illegal pirating scam on games sold in Asia and the Americas. They were making bank off of basically copying/pasting the content and sometimes shifting some code around (inevitably destroying the game in the process). These people _ruined_ gaming for everyone, so he expressed his rage on them pretty often.

But he didn't feel… happy.

Yeah, killing them in bloody, gory, creative ways was pretty fun… he even managed to mimic one of Mortal Kombat's "FATALITY" moves on this one creeper in his basement. He was interested to discover the spine really could snap out like that in one, fluid motion if you did it right (it's all in the wrist). Plus, he enjoyed reading the news reports these days; '_Mysterious Killer on the Loose', 'Another Victim Found Electrocuted without Cause_', '_Pirating Scam Uncovered with Head of Operation Discovered Forcibly Drowned in Bathtub_'. It initially felt pretty cool being talked about on the Evening News.

But after a few months of freedom, wandering the internet, sometimes trolling the Semi-Deep Web (like the kiddie pool of the Deeper-Deep Web) for kicks and giggles, he'd grown bored.

It was kind of lonely just drifting through cyberspace. Yeah, sometimes he'd Omegle someone with a fake webcam video feed he'd stolen from someone else, but it wasn't really much. It had lost its luster and he felt like there wasn't a reason to keep doing this.

He leaned back on his hands as he stared up at the ceiling… that was an ugly mold stain up there, he noticed. He looked down at the long-dead guy, "You really need to do a better job of house-keeping."

He used two fingers to grab the chin and maneuver it, muttering in a falsetto out of the corner of his mouth, "_Yeah, I really let this place go to Hell, didn't I?_"

"So what was your life like?"

"_Oh, you know, I was just someone trying to ruin the Internet one game at a time while essentially stealing as much money as I could from the poor sap gamers that bought it._"

"And how'd that work out for you?"

"_I dunno, I can't see it, but I can tell ya that your super-awesome electrical powers totally zapped my eyes out and I believe it fried what squishy gray-matter I had in my skull_."

"Oh, RocketDickMan42553, you are a card. A-ha. A-ha. A-ha." He said monotonously, dropping the head back to the floor and sighing.

Yep.

This really _was_… something.

…

The monitor to his side flickered and he glanced over at it. The screen became distorted as it wavered and a few colors inverted themselves haphazardly. "What the…?"

He caught a glimpse of the monitor's reflection and turned around-

-to the blank faceless figure standing behind him.

He spoke telepathically, like an X-man. He loved those comics… or at least he thought he did. Memories got fuzzier and fuzzier as time went on. He was offered a place to stay, a place to live. A place to give him purpose instead of drifting endlessly in the Internet.

He had accepted.

And never looked back.

* * *

Slender sighed as BEN nodded back off into dreamland. "Is he alright?"

Pomfrey nodded calmly, "Yes, I'm afraid that's just a condition of some of the potions I've given him. He'll be a bit lethargic and drowsy for the next week or so, but it will pass easily. He's probably also just very exhausted from whatever gave him such a fright in the first place."

She nodded worriedly towards the twisted sheets around his legs that he had been kicking at frantically just moments before shooting upright. She waved her wand and the bedspread righted itself over the snoozing figure. Slender nodded in thanks as he lamented to himself how this could have all been avoided.

Poppy continued, "I recommend he stay for another hour and then he can go home with you, sir."

"Yes, thank you, that's fine." He agreed, waving his hand in acknowledgement.

The matron walked away, gathering some materials and sanitizing areas with her wand. Slender was just left to his musings. Less than 3 days in and already something went wrong.

This did not bode well.

He honestly wondered when the next shoe would drop for them.

The Hospital Wing door slammed open and both he and a startled Madame Pomfrey turned to see LJ rushing in, panting. "Hey, *huff* we've got a serious problem."

Of course.

* * *

Fred and George were currently running through the Amazonian section of the portrait hall on the fourth floor. As pranksters, they were always up to another adventure, but being in the portrait realm meant there were a lot of sudden scene shifts and not enough inns or pubs to rest up at.

They were almost skewered by spears and a pollaxe at the eternal battle between the Saxons and the Normans on the second floor. From there, they dropped through a hidden portrait trap door into a safari area on the sixth floor where they were simultaneously almost gored by a rhinoceros and mauled by a lion. Falling into a watering hole in the safari caused them to fall out of the ceiling in the 'intellectual's hall' on the fifth floor (which was equally deadly in how they were almost bored to death by several portraits' outdated theories on whether or not the world was flat or square).

They escaped the theorists and were almost crushed by farmyard debris while being flung 'round and 'round in the tornado from the portrait of Elphaba the Wicked.

Elphaba guided them on her broom towards a ripped-out section of door flying haphazardly through the debris. The door dropped through into the jungle canopy they were currently running through.

"George! What kind of bloody creatures are those?" Fred called as they ran.

"They're muggle! They call them Giant Amazonian ants! Really, _really effing_ big ants!" George shouted back. Behind the pair, the jungle floor was glittering black with thousands upon thousands of ants roughly the size of fingers clamoring over one another trying to overwhelm the pair.

Fred took a hard right and skidded to a halt just in front of an open cave system. "Whoo, that was clo-"

He was shoved forward by his twin as they fell together right into the endless pit of cave, the swarm clicking angrily at the top as their prey escaped. The pair fell through the chasm, but instead of reaching the bottom, they landed on an over-stuffed sofa, causing a flurry of feathers to fly out.

"I say! Are you alright?"

Once the double-vision left the duo, they looked around to find themselves at the room. They had landed in a large portrait of several men discussing politics over wine. They were already being escorted off the couch towards the tables by the wizards. One had already swished the feathers back into the stuffing and repaired the cushions.

"Here, sit down, boys. Have some wine or cheese." A wizened, bald old man offered, gesturing towards the table.

"We're underage," Fred replied dazedly, incapable of really thinking anything else.

One of the men mumbled about 'ridiculous modern concepts' as he downed the glass of red wine they'd offered. A younger man rolled his eyes and addressed them, "I presume you've just fallen through the Amazonian painting, then? Nasty ants, they have. We keep finding those buggers in the bread."

Fred grimaced and nodded in complete agreement. His twin spoke, "Please, sir, we're just trying to find someone we can talk to and figure out how to get home."

"Oh, are you from a different portrait, then? A bit of out-of-the-frame thinking and exploration?" The old man asked, kindly.

"No, we're students. As in proper students, here. We… er, accidentally got ourselves stuck in the paintings." George explained.

The old man's eyes widened, "Oh, I daresay that's a first. Now that brings up the question of whether a portrait really is under political jurisdiction if there is plausible travel between dimensions."

The Weasley Twins groaned as the philosophers and politicians began arguing and debating over their newest idea.

"Georgie!" Fred tapped against his shoulder anxiously and ran straight up towards the 'window' to the real world. LJ was currently wandering the hallways, looking around at the enormous portraits and how they moved. He didn't have his white face-paint (at Slendy's insistence), but kept his black lipstick and black eyeshadow. "LJ! Jack! Over here!"

The clowny teenager looked around in confusion until the frantic waving and shouting brought his attention towards the portrait where two familiar figures. He leaned in closer, "Fred? George? Wait, is this just a portrait or a prank or something?"

"No, it's us!" Fred called out desperately, "We got trapped here by Emily, the girl in the painting guarding your room! You've got to help us get out! Please!"

LJ looked surprised and a little anxious as he thought it out, "Okay, I'll go run and find Sle- er, Solomon. You guys stay put… or, actually, can you get back to Emily's portrait, or at least as close as possible?"

"We'll try." George promised. LJ nodded resolutely and ran straight down the hallway in search of his guardian.

Fred interrupted the bickering of three characters over the philosophical debate of their own sentience, "Excuse me! Could any of you point our way towards the portrait hall by the guest rooms?"

The figures discussed among themselves and the younger philosopher spoke, "You'll want to go to the next portrait over; The Arabian Nights. Explain it to Aladdin and he'll help you." He pointed towards a door inset into the wall to the right of the 'window'.

The duo ran through it and found themselves in the middle of a cave of jewels and gold coins. They'd stop and stare a bit more if it weren't for their urgency (and the fact that portrait gold wouldn't be real). They found several men in some ornate, circular ottoman seats, all Arabian.

"Excuse us, which of you is Aladdin?" Fred asked.

A young man with a grimy oil lamp at his hip stood up from the seat. "I am, good sirs. What brings you to the Cave of the Forty Thieves?"

"We're just trying to get home." George explained, exasperated. "We've been speared by warriors, eaten by lions, chased by ants, fallen through pits, and gotten our ears talked off by _politicians_!"

Another man nodded, finger to his chin, "Ah, yes, the Sultan I remember was a rather long-winded man."

"Did he ever go on a full debate over whether or not the cheese was moldy?" Fred asked. "It was _literally_ growing green spots! The counter-argument was that it was just 'quality aged cheese bits'!"

"Yes, that does sound like him." The man laughed.

Aladdin waved his hand to grab attention, "Back to the matter at hand, what do you need from me, exactly?"

"We're trying to get back to the portrait hall by the guest rooms. The portrait next door said you could help."

The man thought a while before snapping his fingers and rummaging through the mounds of coins and jewels and hefting out a large coil of heavy cloth. "Ah, here we are. Haven't used this in quite some time."

He rolled it out on the floor and it turned out to be a beautifully woven rug. He sat down towards the front end of it and looked back at the pair expectantly. "Well? What are you waiting for? Hop on." He patted the area of carpet behind him.

The two hesitantly sat down behind him and jumped in surprise as the carpet lurched upwards and levitated in place, flowing around them in an unfelt wind. The swath of cloth suddenly glided forward with increasing speed through the large caverns and tunnels of gleaming treasure and rock. The two Englishmen gripped onto the rug tighter. Aladdin laughed at their expressions, "What? Have you never been on a magic carpet before?"

"First time, really! Their banned in the UK!" George called back over the wind.

The older man shook his head sadly, "A shame, I bet on one of those flimsy Northern broomsticks, you couldn't do… _this_!"

They screamed as he turned a hard left and pulled a fully loop-de-loop in a larger cavern before zooming forward upside down and finally righting himself. Fred gave a weak chuckle as they leveled out. "Nope. Definitely never seen that before."

The carpet continued forward through the maze until they reached a dead-end, but Aladdin kept urging the carpet forward. "Uh, Al?" George asked anxiously, eyeing the very _solid_ stone wall. "Aladdin?!"

They began shouting as they got closer and closer to the rock face.

Prepare for impact!

"_Open Sesame!_"

They watched as the rock face slid apart in an instant, allowing the carpet safe passage through the opening. They found themselves in the inky void between portraits for a while before the carpet navigated around. They caught glimpses of other portraits; the Drunk Monks, the Hunter Party, even the Fat Lady, before finally gliding through into the first portrait they'd arrived in just after Emily dragged them through.

Fred and George breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar surroundings. "Thanks, Al." The man bowed and flew back through the ceiling on the carpet.

"Welcome back, boys." One of the women said cheerily. "Any luck finding help?"

George nodded just as he noticed a figure appear in the 'window' to the real world. The twins rushed over to it and began pounding on the 'glass'. "Mr. Lindermann! Over here!"

The older man took notice of the two at last and gave a deep sigh, seeming to try to collect himself. "And just _how_ did this happen?"

The twins heard a giggle right next to them, signifying that Emily was listening, "I did that, sir. They wanted me to let them come 'in', so I did."

"By dragging them into a portrait?" The guardian questioned.

"Yep, but then they ran away from me. So rude! So, I just… let them go. Teach them a lesson about leaving a picnic early." She cackled, a pretty far cry from her earlier giggle.

"Regardless, I believe you need to help them get out." The twins heard a 'hmph' and imagined her turning away, arms crossed, and pouting. Mr. Lindermann was not amused, "Let me rephrase. _Get. Them. Out. **Now**_."

The portrait hall trembled and went silence at the ominous voice, not even Emily spoke. The twins looked at each other anxiously before a wall next to them suddenly split as a white trellis archway practically strangled with red rose vines appeared. Through it, they could see the meadow and sky of Emily's portrait. Without a second thought, they both ran through it, for once relieved to be back with that psychotic character.

The archway sunk into the ground, disappearing after they walked through it, but both of them ignored that and ran up towards the 'window'. They stopped just short of it and Fred looked over at the character confused, "Er, how does this work, exactly?"

She rolled her eyes, "Go through the window, of course."

The two took a few hesitant steps closer to the window when they felt the world suddenly pitch beneath them. It felt like the entire ground was suddenly shifted at an upward angle, causing them to fall forward and right out of the window, sprawling on the cold stonework of Hogwarts.

George looked around and laughed in relief, "Land! Sweet, glorious land!"

"I believe, dear brother, you mean 'Reality! Sweet, glorious, huge-arse-ant-free Reality." Fred grinned back.

"Ah-_hem_."

They turned back and saw the tall guardian looking down at them with cold, black eyes. "Care to explain how this all happened in the first place?"

"Er, well, you see-" They stammered over each other until the dainty cough from Emily drew their attention. She gestured with her finger towards Sol who leaned in closer to hear her whisper something through the canvas.

"Ah." He turned to the sweating twins, "Emily has informed me that you were trying to access our rooms."

"Er, a prank!" Fred exclaimed. George nodded fervently, "Yeah, we were going to try to prank you guys. Nothing harmful, just… a…"

He trailed off at the unblinking, silent gaze of Mr. Lindermann. The furious, loud, and explosive gaze and guilt of their mother they had years of experience with and could ignore it easily.

This…?

"Uh, er, George?" Fred tried. The twin just shook his head. Neither one could miss how the guardian hadn't taken his eyes off of them in the first place.

After almost a full minute of silence and intimidation, they reluctantly brought out the map and murmured the passcode into it. They pointed out their figures and outlines along with BEN's and how the map worked. Afterwards, the man just kept watching the map silently.

"…I see…"

Despite it being hardly above whispering level, it felt like it was boomed through the halls with a Sonorus.

They hurriedly started babbling, "Don't worry, though! Your secrets are entirely safe with us. We won't tell anyone. Marauder's Honor. Not even Dumbledore."

The guardian opened his mouth to say something, but caught a side-glance at LJ. He paused, "I know boys, because if we find out that our secrets were let slip, we will come to you first and the results will be… _unpleasant_."

The last word echoed in their mind unnaturally, seeming to reverberate the hallways of their mind. Without another word, the figure turned on his heel and walked away.

As the footsteps disappeared into the distance, EJ breathed an enormous sigh and leaned against a wall. Then, he bounced back, grinning and shook both their hands, "Congrats you two! You survived Slendy!"

"Wait, 'survived'?" Fred asked, appalled, "You mean he might've killed us?!"

"In a heartbeat," The teen replied solemnly, then turned right around and beamed, "But he didn't! And that's what matters!"

The two felt blood pool out of their faces and the room started swaying. "Hey, hey, now, c'mon. You're both alright and you got out okay. Slendy's not one to let something slide so easily, he's pretty protective of our secrecy. So just don't tell _anyone_ our names and stuff and we'll be okay. Alright?"

Fred and George just nodded dumbly. LJ started walking away before George spoke up, "Hey, wait, can we ask what your name is?"

The clowny teen's grin widened exponentially, allowing razor-point teeth to show through his glamour and his paper-white skin tone to take over the fleshy hue of the disguise, "Laughing Jack, at your service, LJ for short. Talk to Harry if you want anything. Who knows, maybe someday we'll tell you it all."

He reapplied the glamour, his bone-white face returning to a normal tanned-skin hue and grinning with human-esque teeth. The twins watched the monochrome teen walk away almost cartoonishly, mumbling a muggle song they'd heard at the village.

"Hm hm-hm hm-hm-m-m-hm, pop goes the weasel."

They were left behind as the cackles echoed through the halls.

* * *

**AN: Overall, I'm good with how this turned out. The twins may appear more often. ;)**

**BEN's story is a little improvised.**

**At the moment, Hermione is... not necessarily an enemy, but not a friend. I have plans, don't worry.**

**Elphaba the Wicked comes from the 'Wicked' musical.**

**I hope you enjoyed!**

**-Crow**


	28. Dead Ends

**AN:*Crow crawls in, dragging self with arms and lugging backpack and laptop bag behind***

**So... much... going... on... this... week...  
**

**Need... weekend...**

***collapses***

***Note: Crow owns nothing***

* * *

The next day brought something Slender had, personally, been dreading since Day 1 of coming here; The Reporters.

On a hunch, he'd arrived early that morning and met with Adrian and Harry at Ravenclaw with Nikolaus joining shortly after. Minutes into breakfast, a flurry of owls brought the post as well as a newspaper with a bold headline that resulted in Slender tearing one from a student in his hurry.

**Harry Potter Returns with Kidnappers?**

**_Once thought to be lost forever, it's been revealed that Harry Potter has finally returned to the magical world! Though the rumors were confirmed at Diagon Alley back in late July, no photographic evidence or statements were made. Similarly, reporters at the event were unable to remember specifics of the people Mr. Potter was with before they escaped due to what we attribute to be a spectacular display of accidental magic from Mr. Potter himself._**

**_However, this intrepid reporter has uncovered that he is, in fact, attending Hogwarts! Sources inside have given us information on our savior._**

**_"Oh, he's just like in the books! He's dashingly handsome, though rather short, but his hair is the same black messy look in the illustrations. And his eyes! They're like emeralds, just like they said!" Quoted from one student in his year (who wishes to remain Anonymous). When prompted for any further details, she replied, "Well, he's rather reclusive and quiet. Even his dorm mates can't say much about him or where he's been these past few years. All we really know is that he has two boys he considers 'brothers'. One in Hufflepuff and one in Ravenclaw, with him."_**

**_Yes, you heard right, dear readers. A Potter has gone into Ravenclaw! Despite centuries of family history and being staunchly in the Light Sided Gryffindor House, this mysterious boy has flipped the odds and gone to the House of the Wise._**

**_Details on this supposed 'family' are scarce, though my sources reveal that the two 'brothers'' names are Aidan Thrasher and Nico Brawls, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively. The 'father' figurehead of this unusual family has been identified as a mysterious Simon Limeman whose background is entirely muggle!_**

**_Evidently, our hero has been concealed all these years by a _muggle_ family before being found and brought to Hogwarts. We are grateful that he has been returned back to his rightful place here in Britain._**

**_It has been leaked that there will be a hearing later today at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to discuss his continued living conditions with his possible 'kidnappers'. We wish our Ministry well and thank Merlin that Harry Potter has been found once more._**

**_-Rita Skeeter_**

Slender set down the paper, fingers steeped in thought and ignoring the indignant outcry from the Ravenclaw he'd taken the newspaper from in the first place. Instead, he deliberately set it further from the Ravenclaw's hands and handed it to his wards who read it quickly.

"Kindappers?!" Harry yelped indignantly.

"Aidan Thrasher?!" Adrian growled.

"Simon Limeman?!" Nick laughed incredulously. He kept snickering into his hand despite Slender's irritated glare.

"They make me sound like some Heavy Metal BDSM freak!" The fire-wielder ground out furiously.

"Well, we don't know about that, _lover-boy_." Nick teased. A subtle amount of smoke drifted upwards from where Adrian's hand met the wood table. The undead corpse shut up rather quickly.

"Regardless, this poses a problem." Slender mumbled irritably. "Firstly, depicting us as kidnappers will only lessen the public's view of us. Secondly, the fact that they consider us 'muggles' and what is associated with it doesn't help either."

"But you didn't kidnap me!" Harry protested loudly enough for others around them to hear, "I went with you and you adopted me legally! I can't go back there! I can't!" His breathing turned panicked as memories of distorted walrus-like men, horse-faced women, and bipedal pigs flooded back. His panic doubled when he realized they weren't distorted at all.

"Harry!" Slender firmly snapped the boy out of his anxiety, "Regardless of whatever happens, you will _not_ leave our care. _I can promise you that_." The last statement resonated with his mental projection, indicating the underlying tone that if a corrupted law wouldn't be on their side… then things would get very unpleasant for the Wizarding world.

Slender sighed, re-reading the small article, "I had hoped to address this meeting quickly and quietly. The fact that this meeting has been leaked poses a problem. This means increased traffic and possibly more hassle by the general public than I'd anticipated."

He turned to Harry, "I think it would help if you came with to provide your direct input in this matter. I will try to pick you up later this afternoon when your classes are over."

"Alright, Sl- er, Solomon." Harry stammered over the name.

"This is difficult," Adrian admitted, "Solomon doesn't have all too much of a nickname and it's a mouthful to say 'Mr. Lindermann' all the time."

"Still, for the moment, just continue to use the formalities." Slender reasoned. They ate in relative silence, save for the redheaded Gryffindor's bellyaching informing everyone that the first year lions had Professor Snape's class that morning.

Shortly before they left, Hedwig flew in through the opening with a brown letter in her beak. She landed gracefully in front of Harry and motioned towards him with the letter as he took it off of her. He opened it and found large, uneven letters.

**Hello Harry,**

**I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?**

**I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with this owl. I never caught what you named her, but I'm glad she made it to you alright.**

**By the way, if you want, I'd like to meet that pet cat of yours I heard about.**

**Hagrid**

"Interesting," Slender murmured after reading the letter.

"Should we go?" Harry asked, "I know he's with Dumbledore, but he seems pretty harmless. This offer also seems harmless, too."

"Plus, if anything does happen, we can take care of ourselves." Adrian remarked, his eyes glowing slightly to accentuate the fact.

"Very well, but I want Jeff and Smile to be with you. He told us he's friends with the Emporium at Diagon Alley so seems to have a fondness for animals. Smile's presence may help things run smoothly."

Harry penned a quick 'yes' reply and sent Hedwig back on her way. Slender assured them that everything is in hand and got up to leave.

* * *

After Charms class, the two ravens waited in the main hall for Nick to get out of Transfiguration. They didn't wait long until Jeff arrived with Smile on a leash, looking for all intents and purposes like a normal canine. Once reunited, they travelled down the long, gravel path through the grounds to an enormous hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

They approached the door and Harry knocked three times. Excited barking echoed through the space and a loud voice could be heard through the door, "Back, Fang! Back you bloody dog. It's just guests."

He opened the door and gave a cheerful hello to the group there, but was stunned silent as the boarhound at his side snarled angrily at Smile, Jeff, Adrian, and Nick. "Now wha's got you so worked up, boy?"

The dog didn't respond and just kept baring its teeth at the group. It quickly stopped when Smile snarled right back and the dog backed away, tail between his legs and hidden behind Hagrid's massive form. The perplexed half-giant let them into his home and offered tea from a very nice china teapot along with something he called 'rock cakes'. The others discovered the 'pastries' lived up to their name and were dense and almost impossible to eat without a chisel and an iron jaw. There were bits of raisins in it, too, but only Hagrid could bite through them. Nick, on the other hand, claimed they were delicious after he dunked them in his tea to soften them up, first. Hagrid took the compliment happily.

They went around introducing themselves, before Hagrid had enough of Fang snarling in the background. "Alright, you bloody mutt, out!"

He picked up the dog under his arm and put him outside, closing the door to his muffled barking. He sat back down at his seat and looked at them apologetically, "Sorry 'bout that, he really isn't like that most o' the time. Don't know what's gotten into him."

They assured him that Fang was alright. Jeff went a step further, "He probably smells the blood on me. I work as a butcher's assistant back home." The others nodded, familiar with his cover story in case he's ever discovered with blood on part of his clothes he couldn't glamour or triggered a guard dog.

Hagrid was surprised, "Oh, and how's that like?"

"Eh, it's a good way to earn cash during the day," Jeff shrugged, "Sol usually homeschools in the evening."

"Sol?" The large man asked curiously.

"Short for Solomon. Solomon's a mouthful and Lindermann's too long. Plus, he's not our dad and he doesn't really go by 'Uncle'." Jeff explained. Harry shuddered a little at the image of calling his guardian 'uncle' after his last experience with one.

Hagrid nodded in understanding as Adrian's eyes wandered in thought, "Actually… you might also hear us call him Slendy."

The others stared at him with wide eyes as Hagrid looked curious. "Why'd you call him that?"

"It's a slurred mix of Solomon and Lindermann with that whole affectionate "y" thing at the end. It makes sense, too, 'cause he's so skinny." Adrian laughed it off, "Yeah, he doesn't mind the nickname when we're at home, but he isn't too crazy about it in public.

Hagrid grinned, "Don't worry, it'll be our secret." (_I'm sure it will_, they thought sarcastically) "'Sides, it sounds like a fairly normal name, too. Not the worst nickname to get, either. A boy back in my year was called 'Stumpers', hated it e'ry day of his life." He returned to his rock cake as the others nodded discretely towards Adrian. "By the way, did your cat decide to come along? I know they're proud creatures, they are. Won't go anywhere they don't want to."

Harry nodded and pulled BRVR out from his pouch. The small pokemon grinned up at the giant man as he excitedly looked at him. "Incredible! Tha's just somethin' else, ain't it? Who'd've thought this little guy could pack such a punch." He scratched BRVR under his chin which elicited happy purrs from the electric type. "Never handled somethin' that shoots lighting. 'Sides Thunder Eagles in America, nothin' really has the same ability. Plus, those birds can't be tamed and are pretty hard to find in the first place."

He started asking Harry about the creature's diet, needs, behaviors, etc. He was particularly interested about defense, offence, and dangers. They thought it was an interesting quirk to have and didn't mind giving him a basic rundown of a Pikachu's hazards.

Hagrid was delighted to see BRVR playing with a ball of yarn he carried with in his large coat. He also had a set of large knitting needles and what looked like the a hand-knit circus tent in the making. A little ways into their tea talk, he got some deer meat from the forest and gave some to both BRVR and Smile in two decently-sized bowls. Both were extremely happy and decided that this was their new favorite half-human.

As Hagrid watched the two eat and talked with Jeff on Smile's care, Harry happened to look at an old newspaper the half-giant had left lying around. '_BREAK-IN AT GRINGOTTS!_'. He quickly scanned the rest of the document and noted it was the same date that Hagrid went to retrieve something for 'Hogwarts Business'.

He waited a few minutes and then sent a small gesture to the others to wrap things up. They excused themselves, thanked him for the tea, and left the large hut. As they walked away, Hagrid kept a close eye on Fang, who growled at their backs.

"Wassa matter with you, boy? Them's perfectly fine people, they are." He scolded. He watched the figures retreat back to the castle and smiled, "Why, I'd bet none of 'em would hurt a fly."

Fang whined nervously as he mourned how wrong his master was.

* * *

Slender and Harry appeared in the middle of nowhere, escorted by Minerva McGonagall. They'd arrived in a dingy little alley in the middle of urban London. As they walked through, Slender addressed the professor, "I don't suppose there are any discrete entrances?"

She shook her head sadly, "I'm sorry, Mr. Lindermann, but aside from magical methods, the only way for muggles to enter is through the overworld entrance. I have no idea how those buzzards found out about this meeting, but I assure you I will do everything in my power to keep them at bay."

She led them towards a grimy, red telephone booth. She ushered them in and they found it surprisingly spacious on the inside despite its tiny exterior. They both just chalked it up to magic and left the headaches to that. McGonagall approached the telephone and punched in a number. When the last number on the rotor clicked into place, a cool female voice sounded above them.

"_Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your names and intentions._"

"Minerva McGonagall, Solomon Lindermann, and Harry Potter. Custody hearing," McGonagall called back clearly.

Three stick-on buttons appeared in the change-return slot and they placed them over their chests as the phone booth descended. Harry watched through the glass as they went downwards through the earth and into a large corridor filled with rows of fireplaces opening to an enormous atrium housing a gold statue he couldn't quite make out at this distance. However, his attention quickly was redirected downwards towards an enormous crowd of reporters waiting and scrambling towards the area where the booth would touch down.

Solomon scowled, "I don't suppose there's any way to direct this booth somewhere else?"

"Not that I know of," McGonagall sighed in frustration.

The moment the doors opened, they were assaulted by question upon question shouted at them with lights bursting like strobe lights. They walked out into the sea of people, Slender holding onto Harry's shoulders protectively. They got to the security guard's desk who had to shout over the din of questioning reporters.

Harry felt the distinct tingle of Sigma as Slender released another pulse of the dangerous radiation. The cameras burst once more and a few odd bits and bobs around the desk used for tracking dark objects also exploded violently. The stunned reporters looked at their ruined cameras and photographs as Slender remained impassive, "No photography, please."

He walked through the security checkpoint and swiftly made their way towards one of the gilded elevators at the end of the atrium. It was an enormous space, seemingly impossible to exist under populated London. The walls were some reflective gray-black stone that made the entire room one big mirror.

The center held an enormous, gold statue of a witch, a wizard, a centaur, a goblin and a curious bedraggled elf-like creature. Water spouted from various locations on the statue, the most prominent being the tips of the wands held by the witch and wizard. Rather absurdly, water spouted from the tips of the ears of the tiniest creature that looked up with blind adoration.

The doors opened at their approach and they requested the elevator boy to take them to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The elevator ascended through the complex structure of the Ministry until it reached the right floor.

They walked out into a space filled with desks with some magical policemen, Aurors if he remembered correctly, filling out menial paperwork. A lot of them pulled a double-take recognizing the young boy with them and hearing about the upcoming hearing. A few palmed their wands, eyes narrowed at Slender, the Boy-Who-Lived's supposed 'kidnapper'. They were escorted through to a young secretary at the entrance to a large set of office doors.

Slender spoke loudly and clearly, "We're here to discuss the guardianship of Harry Potter." She nodded meekly and rushed through the doors to emerge a few seconds later to let them in. Except, she held back Professor McGonagall.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait outside. It's a matter of guardians only." She said timidly. The aged professor huffed but nodded and took a seat in the waiting area, picking up a magazine of _Transfiguration Weekly_.

They were led into the spacious office with very few decorations and mostly just a large desk with three comfortable-looking chairs in front of it. A woman with a strong jaw and a monocle sat behind the desk watching them and one of the chairs was occupied by the small figure of the Goblin Snagrock, the Potter Account Manager.

The woman stood and extended her hand, "Good afternoon. My name is Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Thank you for coming today."

Slender nodded and returned the shake, "Hello Ms. Bones, my name is Solomon Lindermann." He looked over to the goblin, "and it's good to see you as well, Account Manager Snagrock."

The goblin and the witch were both stunned. The goblin recovered first, "Y-you remembered me?"

"It would be inconsiderate to not." Slender replied evenly. The goblin just nodded before turning back towards Amelia.

The woman cleared her throat as the guardian and ward sat in the remaining two seats, "Now, Mr. Lindermann, we're here to discuss your guardianship of Harry Potter. I need some legal reassurance that he is, in fact, your ward."

"I can put that to rest," Snagrock replied, pulling out the large folder of the Guardian Contract. He set it on her desk with a heavy 'thump' and spoke, "I've run it past our best Contract Specialists. This document is official, legal, and unbreakable. Mr. Lindermann is, in fact, the undeniable, _legal_ guardian to Mr. Harry James Potter, here."

With that, Madame Bones nodded and closed the file on her desk, "Well, that's a multitude of questions eliminated rather easily. Now for another, Mr. Lindermann, where has Mr. Potter been over the last four years?"

"I'm afraid that's none of your concern," Slender replied coolly.

Her eyes narrowed behind the monocle, "I believe you'll find that it is very much our concern, Mr. Lindermann. We need an address for Mr. Potter to legally accept your filing."

"You will find that the documents are all in accordance with the law. I have supplied a method to contact us in the event of absolute emergencies, but attempts to track our location will not be permitted. I ask that you please respect our wishes and leave us as we are. He is safe, that is all I can tell you."

Amelia was about to reply when the door rang out with three loud knocks. She hadn't even spoken for their permission to enter when the door opened and a woman bustled her way in. The guests were rather repulsed by her appearance while Madame Bones looked like she wanted to stave off an enormous headache brewing.

The woman in question was short. Not short as in petite like an acrobat, but more squat like someone two or three times her size pressed down in a hydraulic machine. Her face was saggy with a wide mouth that almost put a certain monster-under-the-bed to shame. Her eyes bulged out grotesquely from her sockets. She wore a bright pink cardigan that almost matched Sally's style if it weren't on a much older woman and an out-of-place black bow in her hair finalized the set-up.

Overall, it gave the impression that perhaps she had been in a reverse case of the Princess and the Frog, but the Prince didn't kiss the Toad quite right and… _that_ was the result of the mix between.

Privately, Slender wondered if she was in any way related to the Croaking Glekogs, a particularly disgusting and slimy breed of amphibious species inhabiting the Under-Realm swamp and wetland zones. She would be roughly the same height and shape as one. Perhaps they'd managed some rudimentary glamour?

"Ah, Madame Bones," She simpered in a shockingly high voice, "I see I've arrived not a minute too late."

"Ah, Madame Umbridge… you're… here…" Amelia said neutrally. She turned back to the guests, "Mr. Lindermann, Mr. Potter, Account Manager Snagrock, may I introduce Madame Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."

The toad-like woman glanced at the goblin and sneered, but her eyes landed on Harry with the uncomfortable feeling of a toad watching a fly. Slender adjusted his seat so he was between the two, locking his jet-black eyes with her slimy, algae-moss green/brown.

"Madame Umbridge, may I ask what you're doing here?" Madame Bones said, interrupting the stare-down.

Umbridge smiled falsely, "Ah, yes, Minister Fudge has requested that I be present here to ensure full cooperation with the Ministry. As well as getting some information from Harry Potter's guardian, of course."

"I was in the middle of the investigation, which was about to conclude." Madame Bones stated irately.

Madame Umbridge 'hmphed' in her direction, "Well, consider my help additional."

She waved her wand and conjured a garishly pink chair for herself just to the side of the desk. Amelia sniffed distastefully, but returned to her business-like neutrality. However, before she could speak, the Undersecretary addressed Slender directly.

"Mr. Limeman?" She asked pleasantly.

Slender's scowl cut her off abruptly, "I'm afraid the newspaper this morning was regrettably incorrect. My name is Solomon Lindermann. Anything else I would consider… _insulting_."

The toad woman swallowed, but Harry noted her hand quivering slightly on the armrest. Despite attitudes that muggles were 'inferior', Slender's naturally intimidating aura (possibly Sigma-based) still bled through. Amelia and the goblin looked mildly amused. Umbridge drew herself up (which amounted to maybe 5 millimeters of height difference) and cleared her throat, "Hem hem. Mr. Lindermann, who were your parents?"

Slender was rather intrigued, "They… are not on this Earth. They were not magical, if that is the question's intent." Technically no lies were said.

Dolores put on a great show of sympathy, "I'm _very_ sorry for your loss, Mr. Lindermann. However am I to understand that you have no magical heritage?"

"Correct."

"And what is your relation with the magical world?" She pressed.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Only the connection through my wards, including Harry. May I ask what standing this has in the custody hearing?"

Umbridge's reply was interrupted by Madame Bone's own answer, "Well, actually, it pertains to your preparedness to handle magical children. It's a bit different from taking care of muggle children and we need to ensure you are capable of handling incidents such as accidental magic or magical illnesses and access to treatment."

"Ah, I see," Slender nodded, "I have been doing fine for four years. We have dealt with Harry's accidental magic prior to this. I assure you we are quite capable."

Madame Bones nodded reluctantly, "I suppose. Still, I want to give you a possible portkey to access Saint Mungo's, a magical hospital here in the UK, for any magic-related incidents you find yourself unable to handle. Furthermore-"

"Hem _hem_." They turned towards the squat witch in the corner. "I'm not sure a _muggle_ is qualified to handle magicals. Particularly such an important Wizarding figure as Harry Potter." She sniffed.

Amelia frowned, "Madame Umbridge, need I remind you that muggleborns are raised very well by their nonmagical parents. Additionally, from reports after the attack, Professor Dumbledore left him with his muggle aunt and uncle prior to an incident that caused the change in guardianship." She noted a slight twitch from Harry and Slender putting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"But that is exactly why his guardianship ought to be changed to a proper pureblood family," Umbridge argued staunchly. "We cannot have the savior of the Wizarding world just raised by some muggles on the whim of that crackpot! Minister Fudge, himself, has offered his home to the boy and he's heard that the Malfoy family have generously offered themselves as an option as well as have several other noteworthy families. The Notts, the Parkinsons, the Diggorys, the Smiths-"

Slender stood abruptly, "Madame, I can assure you that Harry will _not_ be leaving my care."

The woman slowly stood up, her murky eyes trying to match the ferocity of his own. She simpered lowly, "Mr. Lindermann, I'm not sure you understand the complications of this case. This boy needs more than just some other run-of-the-mill child. The Ministry cares deeply for _all_ its citizens and will see to it that he is taken care of _properly_."

"Well, thankfully this is all moot." Slender replied darkly.

The goblin cleared his throat, "I'm afraid he's correct. The guardianship forms are absolute. He is the sole and unbreakable guardian to Harry James Potter."

"I demand a copy of that contract!" Umbridge shrieked. She rounded on Amelia, "Madame Bones, I want this document analyzed by every contract specialist in the DMLE!"

Snagrock chuckled, "I assure you, madame, that it will be done as you asked, but I guarantee you will get nowhere. The contract is entirely ironclad. Not even our best contract specialists could reverse this one."

Dolores turned an ugly shade of puce, glaring at the small creature before rounding back to Slenderman. "The Ministry can declare a document void if they deem it necessary." She hissed threateningly.

"Well, in that case, I do not regret at all to inform you that the British Ministry has no power over us as American citizens, which in the last few years we've acquired for Harry as well. This entire meeting was purely for clearing that up." The entity replied coldly. Harry shivered at the danger that was hinted just behind his statement. It felt like he was challenging her to force him to spear her right then and there with one of his tentacles.

"Madame Umbridge," Madame Bones began, "I must dismiss you from this hearing. You are deliberately hindering this interview and conducting yourself very inappropriately."

The toad-woman sputtered and her face took on a color reminiscent to a regurgitated beet, cherry, and raspberry smoothie. She stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Madame Bones waited a few seconds before waving her wand and vanishing the hideous chair.

"I thought she'd never leave." She muttered. Slender, Harry, and Snagrock grinned in agreement. She turned back to the white-haired guardian, "Mr. Lindermann, I'm happy to say that it all seems in hand and above the board. So, the Ministry of Magic of Britain and the UK hereby recognizes you as the official guardian to Harry Potter. Congratulations."

"Thank you." He shook her hand and the hand of the goblin before Harry followed suit.

Amelia started leading them back through the door when the goblin spoke, "Mr. Lindermann, before we leave the privacy of this office, I'd like to inform you that your mail issue was looked into. It seems there was a mail ward around Mr. Potter, but we cannot tell who set it up. I apologize. However, the ward has since been removed, so you should expect a test correspondence within the next business week."

"Thank you, Snagrock. Gringotts has been extraordinarily helpful. I also wanted to say I will be attending the meeting we arranged tomorrow." Snagrock gave a small bow.

"Mail wards?!" Amelia sputtered, drawing attention to herself. She cleared her throat and addressed Slender, "We will be in touch, later." Slender nodded, but internally sighed. Another meeting and another complication.

They walked out of the room and McGonagall abruptly stood up before Slender raised a hand to calm her. They gave a recap of the meeting to the aged professor who congratulated them both on the success. Amelia led them towards the elevator and the elevator boy started taking them towards the ground level.

As they approached their stop, they looked out the grate door and saw the atrium was filled with reporters murmuring amongst themselves, writing in notepads, and checking their cameras. In the middle of it all was an officious-looking man in a blindingly garish lime green bowler hat. One reporter noticed the lift approaching and the sea of reporters suddenly swarmed around wildly trying to get closer.

Amelia groaned with her face in her hand. McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thin line, "I knew Fudge was a daft politician, but I should have suspected he'd try to pull something like this."

Slender looked out and saw there were new reporters with new photographers and new cameras. However, for this large of a crowd, a Sigma burst strong enough to destroy it all could very well irradiate someone to death. It was too soon, but on the other hand…

"Mr. Potter!"

"Madame Bones, if you woul-"

"Daily Prophet! What is the verdict on-"

"Professor! Why are you here? Is this in regards to-"

"Mr. Potter! Over here!"

"Mr. Potter!"

"Harry!"

"Mr. Potter" "Mr. Potter" "Mr. Potter"

The grates opened and Amelia used an Auror-grade crowd control spell to separated the sea of reporters from a clear path towards the visitor's entrance. The man in the bowler hat, however, managed to get beyond it and walked up towards the group, beaming.

"Harry Potter. Such an honor," He grabbed the boy's hand and shook it, ignoring Harry's awkward grimace. The reason became obvious as he looked over at the reporters and beamed in the blinding flashes of thousands of cameras capturing the shot of the Minister shaking the Boy-Who-Lived's hand.

Slender grabbed Harry by the shoulder and pulled him back, eyeing the man with obvious distrust. The Minister seemed flustered and then laughed to himself, "Oh ho! I'm terribly sorry. Of course you don't know who I am. My name is Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic." He said grandly.

Slender remained stony as the Minister's smile faltered. "Well, anyways, I was hoping to get a statement from Mr. Potter and possibly allow for some questions from the crowd." He gestured to the eager reporters around him and made to grab Harry again, but Slender blocked him.

"I'm afraid, Minister Fudge, that we are on a rather tight schedule and we need to leave quickly." The guardian replied coldly.

At this point, the Minister was sweating slightly, "Well, yes, of course, of course, but first a photograph and a quick statement, yes?"

"No."

The tall being pushed past the flustered, little man with the Head Auror and Transfiguration Professor right behind. Unfortunately, with the sea of people trying to get through, the spell Madame Bones had used failed and the reporters swarmed, pushing each other forward, jostling the group.

Harry felt hands grabbing him and pulling him away from Slender, who started shouting his name and was panicked as he tried to find the short boy in the sea of tall adults. Voices blurred and twisted around him as bodies pressed closer together. His eyes became disoriented from the bright bulb flashes and the microphones, notepads, and faces shoved at him.

He began getting frantic and nervous. He had to get out!

He had to!

"NO!"

The roar of noise quieted and he felt the area open up around him. He opened his eyes and found a spot about a meter in radius from him completely devoid of reporters who had been flung into the crowd. As for the rest, the cameras had exploded once more destroying the photographic evidence inside but also caused the thousands of notepads and parchment papers to catch fire and crumbled to ash in the reporter's hands.

The room was silent at the display of very powerful accidental magic. Slender pushed his way through the stunned crowd and directed his shivering ward through the crowd, which parted at his glare. They made it to the phone booth followed shortly after by Professor McGonagall which rose away, leaving a dismayed and frustrated Minister and a legion of reporters without a story.

* * *

That evening saw the Hogwarts Teacher's Lounge filled with its staff around a long table. A house elf brought up a steaming pot of coffee, tea, and a tray full of small nibbles. After a minute, Professor Dumbledore himself came in, beaming at all of them, and sat at the head. "Alright, now let's begin our annual End of the First Week Review."

"Well, we have had several cases of homesickness, nothing too unusual. A floo call fixed most right up, though one muggleborn Hufflepuff had to be escorted to the nearest muggle payphone at the nearest town to call her parents. It wasn't terribly inconvenient and she was much better afterwards." Poppy reported.

"I fear Mr. Crawley has become rather reclusive this past week. I suspect some issues with his home life deteriorated over the summer. I will endeavor to help him, but he may need a mind Healer eventually." Severus murmured, nodding to Madame Pomfrey.

"Speaking of," Filius began, "I overheard one of my raven's parents are 'divorcing'. It's a muggle custom for breaking a marriage legally and I understand it can be strenuous on the children involved. I'll keep an eye on him as well."

Kettleburn put down his mug of black coffee with his still-attached hand, "I caught some third years trying to see the Forest a few days ago." He turned towards Albus, "This year, I think we _really_ need to enforce the 'don't go in the forest' shtick. The centaurs have been antsy lately and the unicorns are a lot more skittish than usual."

"I'll keep that in mind," The Headmaster responded.

"I caught two sixth years… _alone_ in the astronomy tower," Professor Sinistra hid the smirk with a sip from her tea, "Thankfully I arrived early enough to stop anything from… 'progressing', but they were rather passionate." She shook her head humorously.

Babbling mirrored her smirk, "Why, Aurora, what a coincidence. I caught two sixth years alone in a broom closet."

"Marcus Summers and Amanda Steinway?" Sinistra asked the runes professor.

She grinned knowingly, "I believe we may need to keep a closer eye on them this year."

Dumbledore nodded, eye twinkling, before bringing in the conversation, "It seems all rather standard for the first week. Now I wish to ask about our… unusual guests."

The mirth died quickly at the face of the newest topic of interest. Harry Potter and his unusual family. McGonagall began, "They seem rather ordinary. Both at the Alley and with my classes. Besides, I've told you all that I know."

Dumbledore nodded, thankful for her tact. She told him about the boy, Benjamin, and what seemed to be accidental magic. However, Poppy confirmed that he had no stable magical potential what-so-ever. It seemed rather contradictory. Then, of course, she informed him of Mr. Lindermann's remarkable Apparation skills. The method was unusual in itself, but taking _seven_ people with him in a side-along required enormous power.

If the man was, in fact, a wizard, he seemed adamant that he hide it or refute some past regarding it.

This all seemed to be building into some enormous mystery. And if he hated anything, it was a mystery without a scrap of information towards the answer.

"What about you, Filius," He asked the Charms Professor. "You are his head. Has there been anything regarding Mr. Potter that you find unusual?"

Flitwick shook his head, "I'm sorry, Albus, but he seems fairly normal. A bit anti-social towards other ravens, but hardly the first Ravenclaw to be so. Both he and his brother, Mr. Thresher, seem fine with the prefects as long as they don't bother them with questions. A rather understandable situation. Aside from that, they get along well-enough with their roommates and they're both very bright."

"I see the same with Mr. Brahms, too." Pomona added. "A bit quiet and reserved about his home life, but he's warmed up with the rest of the 'puffs well."

Dumbledore nodded, not expecting much on the front of the unusual 'Brothers'. He turned to the potions master, a wry smile as he half-expected his response. "And what do you think, Severus?"

"He's as arrogant as his father and just as bone-headed," Snape sneered. "The other two are mediocre in their potions work. However, Mr. Thresher's tattoos suggest he may be a troublemaker."

Filius was startled, "Mr. Thresher has been extremely well behaved, but what tattoos are you referring to?"

"He has two tattoos of a muggle concept called 'barbed wire'. It's essentially a length of metal wire with spikes along it periodically. He has them running down the length of his arm." Snape said quietly.

Pomona was surprised, "That sounds ghastly! Why on earth would muggles design such a thing?"

"Originally, the wire was developed as a means to keep cattle from leaving a paddock. The wire is painful if touched, so it would discourage them from approaching it. As I understand, a similar concept called 'razor wire' is incorporated in perimeter fences to muggle prisons meant to cut inmate's hands to shreds if they try to escape by climbing the wall." Snape replied neutrally.

"And you say Mr. Adrian Thresher has this imprinted along his arms?" Professor Sinistra asked incredulously, though a little green-faced at the image.

"Yes, although it is not terribly uncommon, such imagery is associated with what muggles call 'Punks', 'Goths', or other juvenile delinquents that frequently disrupt establishment and purposefully try to cause trouble." Snape remarked snidely.

Dumbledore nodded, "I see, then Filius please keep a watchful eye on him. I'd rather he not… er, what do muggles call it?... 'spray paint' on the walls."

"I will, Headmaster," the half-goblin replied.

"Anything else, Severus?" Albus asked politely.

Snape snarled, "Yes. I want you to keep that wretched brat away from my dungeons at all times!"

"Severus!" McGonagall scolded in surprise.

"I mean Ms. Williams!" He responded angrily. "That psychotic little girl mixed dropped potions ingredients into a cauldron and created a potion. Yes, I know, and _yes_, it was a proper potion and not some muggle stew!" He growled to their incredulous faces.

"Then, she calls me over under the pretense that her potion 'smelled funny'. I get close to it and she grabs my hand and tries to drown me in the mess. I was lucky to vanish the vile drink before I touched it! I tested the remainder after class and it was highly acidic! She would have killed me!"

The teachers were all stunned and confused. McGonagall spoke, "A-are you sure it was intentional, Severus. It could have been just a harmless prank that she hadn't thought through."

He reached into his robes and pulled out the sheet of paper. He laid it out for all of them to see the obvious skeletal figure doodled on the page, "I believe her intentions are quite _clear_."

The staff sat back, absorbing this information. No one could say anything to contest it, but no one could imagine Ms. Williams as anything other than the sweet, innocent little girl she always seemed to be. Minerva had privately considered the nightmarish vision she'd seen of the girl, but couldn't tell if it was real or not. She chose not to speak out.

After a brief silence, Hagrid cleared his throat, "Well, they seemed pretty normal to me. Fang kept growlin' at 'em, but that was it."

"You met them," Dumbledore asked, intrigued.

"Sure did, I invited 'em for tea earlier today 'smatter of fact."

Dumbledore became even more interested in what the half-giant could have possibly learned, but the man couldn't say anything terribly relevant. The dog and the yellow cat liked deer meat and Mr. Lindermann had an embarrassing nickname among his wards, but aside from that completely irrelevant information, there was little to no information on their personal lives.

The Headmaster stopped questioning the groundskeeper after a minute and turned to the resident nurse, "And last, but not least; Poppy, have you noticed anything regarding your ward?"

"No, Headmaster, Mr. Downing was completely normal. He just suffered a severe panic attack. I can't tell you much more about it, but he was just as muggle as you'd expect." She knew he wanted to ask the same question Minerva had asked, but kept telling them the boy's readouts all showed he had no stable magical core.

Dumbledore sighed, nodding his head in acceptance. "Then, as the last subject on this matter, I believe Harry should be offered a re-sort."

Filius was outraged, "Albus, he has been just fine in my house! He has shown no objection towards it and he seems to enjoy his situation as well! Why offer a resort? Is my house not good enough, headmaster?"

"No, Filius, I just believe that perhaps the hat didn't understand him as well as he thought. I just want to offer him the choice."

Filius was still boiling over, but maintained his silence. Dumbledore continued, "I'll arrange a meeting with Mr. Lindermann on Sunday to discuss this."

He dismissed everyone save for Snape and McGonagall, whom he quietly requested to stay behind for a moment. When they were alone, he spoke to them, "Now, I want you to keep a close eye on both the students and his family for any abnormalities in behavior or anything that may hint towards them. If so, I want you to report it to me immediately. Thank you, you may leave."

He walked out from the teacher's lounge, thinking that overall the meeting went better than expected. He wasn't any closer towards understanding these mysterious people, but he was closer on a different track.

He absently gave the candy-themed password to the gargoyle guardian and ascended the stairs to his office where he sealed the door against intruders. The room was filled with his old trackers and instruments standing silent, but at the ready.

Earlier in the week, he had found an illegal spell to remove a small sample of blood from an individual into a container. Purebloods passed the laws immediately ages ago for fear of theirs or their heir's blood being stolen for rituals or examined and discovering the interbred lineage.

As Harry was on his way to charms class, he'd hardly felt the pinprick on his neck. Likewise, he'd missed Dumbledore in a disillusionment charm fleeing with a tiny vial of red liquid.

He pulled out the small vial and set it on his desk. The room was carefully strung with silver threads and runes from device to device all converging at a small, solid gold bowl in the center on an elevated pedestal where all of the lines and runes met. He set about, calibrating each device one last time before walking carefully up to the pedestal.

He couldn't risk acquiring multiple samples over and over for each individual tracker and after they were set into the boy's blood, they could be unstrung and put around his office once more so his guests were none-the-wiser.

He poured the small blood into the bowl and stood back. The runes on the bowl glowed and channeled the magic of the blood through the silver strings and trails of ancient symbols. He grinned as the machines began to puff and whir and spark again for the first time in four years.

Now, Dumbledore was hardly up-to-date in terms of technology and discoveries, so he didn't even know the term, but even if he did, he could never have guessed that the subject's blood was outrageously radioactive. Nor could he have predicted the effects on delicate magical instruments.

The blood began to glow as the trackers drew on the unworldly energy of Sigma. The trackers spun faster and puffs of smoke became tea-kettle whistles reaching higher octaves with each passing second.

Dumbledore had the sense to duck to the ground just as the entire array of trackers exploded.

He quietly raised his head and was mortified.

He was left despondent in a room filled with shards of glass, silver, and gold from the remnants of a thousand, _expensive_ devices. The silver wire was incinerated from the immense energy surged through them. The runes were cracked and ruined. And all that was left in the bowl was a small smudge of black soot.

He sighed sadly as Fawkes trilled in the corner.

* * *

**AN: From YouTube Slender series like Everymanhybrid, Sigma affects blood, so I figured it'd be a cool scene to get rid of that loophole in the whole 'Harry can't be found'.**

**I felt like this chapter was... 'meh', but I have plans for later as things progress. I just need time to get things arranged out here as the new semester starts up.**


	29. The Hypotenuse of a Wand is Jelly Bean?

**Open to a large, black void.**

**…**

**…**

**…**

***creeeeaaaak***

**A shaft of light widens into a door, with a figure silhouetting the white behind it.**

**"Woah, what happened to the lights?" Echoes a voice, followed by brief shuffling sounds at the wall next to the opening.**

**…**

**…**

**The lights suddenly flare to life, bathing the black void in white… making it a white void instead. A figure walks away from the door (now with blackness behind it for contrast) as it swings shut, sealing the empty, white void.**

**The figure looks around the place, humming thoughtfully.**

**"Definitely needs some furniture, maybe a fireplace… a nice rug… though, first thing's first, it definitely some walls and floors…" The figure mutters, before turning to towards… you.**

**"Hello, everyone, it's Crow. And I'm here to tell you I'm setting up shop in a new computer! Yay!" The figure smiles as a simple, wooden chair fades into existence. Crow walks over and sits down on it.**

**"Now, you're probably wondering why I'm starting this up in a new computer… well, to put it simply… my old computer crashed… badly…" The figure glances to the side and waves its hand.**

**A window opens in the void, showing a mass of stars, planets, and galaxies being pulled into the event horizon of a massive ball of black and purple energy. The scene shifts to an old-looking manor house being torn apart board by board and sucked into a black hole floating directly above it. The ground, trees, and other objects are crumbling in as they lose their will to exist.**

**In the distance, you hear thousands of voices crying out as the waves of fire approach the-!**

**The window shuts closed, "Ooookay, that's enough of that." The figure says, grimacing. "The main point is that… everything's gone. Well, not _everything_." They gesture to the side where a lone box labeled "Harry by Proxy" sits with a few scraps of paper next to it.**

**"By sheer luck, I found the old email with this specific chapter that I had sent my Beta, so I managed to recover this document from the Void. Additionally, I managed to salvage several other emails I'd sent myself back in August. They aren't completely up-to-date, but until we figure out how to salvage the old files off of my original computer, they're close enough. Worse comes to worse; I rewrite a little bit.**

**"So, this one survived, and (semi-fortunately) I had been stuck with complete writer's block on Chapter 29 until very recently (like, two days prior to the crash), so not much was lost then, and I had incidentally transferred the notepad document I based the chapter off of to this computer a week ago. So, we'll see about that, but please be patient.**

**"Lastly, given my… crippling hour load this semester," Here, Crow visibly withers, "coupled with the crashed computer… and with the next few days being filled with exams to classes I need to do well in…" Crow is now looking more like a drooping skeleton with a few clothes and some skin, "…*sigh*… I won't be able to do a Halloween Special…"**

**…**

**…**

**The skeletal remains blow away as dust in an impossible-to-exist-yet wind.**

**…**

**…**

* * *

***Prior to the crash***

**AN: A little while ago, I felt that I wasn't putting in enough death for the story… weird phrase, but it _is_ creepypasta. So, I decided to incorporate a little randomized-person death. Hope you don't mind. If you want, let it be a cautionary tale.**

**I own nothing**

**-Crow**

* * *

Slender sat in his favorite armchair in the parlor room on Saturday morning. Finally, a week was through and it seemed as though things were finally settling into a rhythm. He had the Saturday-Edition Daily Prophet (which was highly unusual for a newspaper) in front of him with an interesting ad for 'Maurice's Dragon-Roasted Hazelnuts'.

It was interesting to get reacquainted with the antiquated style of newsletter he hadn't seen in almost 100 years. Comparatively, it made him realize how grateful he was that years of newspaper evolution allowed easy-to-read articles instead of the mind-numbing confusing mess that used to pass for a newspaper.

He had ordered a subscription for the Wizarding paper and arranged it to be sent to an abandoned mansion in the middle of the English countryside. An owl would deliver the paper into a mailbox and leave. From there, a small Operator Symbol etched into the metal just beneath the newspaper would activate and send it directly to the end table right next to his chair.

He took a sip of tea and flipped the next page. A long article was featured that continued from the first page. He scowled, remembering that particular article. It was on Fudge and the supposed 'meeting' at the Ministry yesterday. It claimed that both he "Mr. Lindermann" and Harry Potter were unavailable for interview. At the very least, he had corrected his alias name.

A brief statement from Madame Bones confirmed that he was, in fact, the legal guardian to the boy. It at least put a large amount of pressure off his back given earlier tension and hostilities towards him. It listed Snagrock as 'a goblin representative' with a quick blurb that he confirmed with the bank that the paperwork was set in stone.

It went on to explain that a burst of powerful accidental magic caused the film in the cameras present to be destroyed as well as the parchment held, preventing direct quotation of Mr. Potter himself along with any photographic evidence. It emphasized how Harry performed it and how 'extraordinary' it all was.

Then, it concluded with 'despite his muggle origins, we wish Mr. Lindermann well in raising their savior'. Despite having slandered his (incorrect) name and rallied the entire nation against him just the day before.

'_How idiotically mercurial these people are_' He thought to himself. He would have snorted, too, if he had nostrils.

He set the paper aside and reflected on the rather obvious change around the manor as of late. Around him were a few of his wards, lounging in the chairs and sofas.

Sally was on the floor drawing with her crayons, like usual. However, recently her drawings tended to focus on witches, wizards, and fantasy creatures. Toby was draped over one of the chairs on the armrests almost obsessively reading a book on dangerous magical beasts; particularly dragons. After his brief encounter with Hagrid, he had a feeling the two would get along well if they ever met.

BEN was snoring on the couch. As Madame Pomfrey had promised, he'd been practically narcoleptic the last few days, crashing at the drop of a hat. So far, he'd fallen asleep face-first in three meals and had to have his head lifted out of it lest he suffocate in mashed potatoes and soup.

An open potions book was lying on his chest. The video game sprite was hopeful there was a recipe for a real-life 'Red Potion of Healing' and, if not, then he declared that he would make one and a blue one, too after his host game.

LJ and EJ were in their respective laboratories these days, experimenting with some things they'd bought on another trip to the Alley.

Speaking of, he remembered he had an appointment with the Goblins of Gringotts later today. He sighed and got up from his armchair to head upstairs and prepare.

* * *

Eyeless Jack was practically a kid in a candy store these past few days.

The fact that his lab literally had shelves of brightly-colored packaging for the many Wizarding sweets and treats offered didn't help the image either. He'd used some of Zalgo's money and bought practically several tons of the merchandise, making a candy store owner in Diagon Alley _very_ happy.

He had chemistry sets with jelly beans dissolving in acids, the resulting, colorful fluids travelling through the glasswork. Cauldron Cakes had the filling removed with sterile syringes and centrifuged in methanol. Licorice wands were melting into sludge on hotplates for analysis.

Out of humor, he'd even set up a frog terrarium for five chocolate frogs using large candy canes for 'logs', chocolate liqueur as 'water' to swim in, and feeding them pellets of cacao butter. To his surprise, their behavior actually mimicked real tree frogs down to laying 'eggs'. He tried cultivating them, but they were all sterile and proved to be delicious; like milk chocolate caviar.

Of course, his experiments hardly ended just there. Separate chemistry sets were breaking down potions ingredients chemically and collecting the extract to be analyzed further. A small cauldron was brewing on a stand in the traditional sense while an enormous glass array of chemical-ware was 'brewing' the colorful potion reagents from subsection to subsection and collecting in a small beaker at the end.

Using Ollivander's notes, he'd set up a wand calibration system and had some nonmagical and magical oak wood of the same species undergoing analysis and calibration with some cheap dragon heartstring as the core; a "control" to the experiment.

Also with Ollivander's help, he'd already worked on recreating and analyzing the 'Quartz Battery' concept with several crystals growing in a small home-made chamber in the corner.

A microscope held a few bristles to a flying broomstick (that they'd managed to pick up off the ground at the Quidditch store rather than buy a whole broomstick) in some tweezers. He would need to design some kind of array for channeling magical energy to see if propulsion could be attained by the bristles alone.

A small, magic-protected computer held data for glamours relative to magical wavelengths for a side-project he'd been working off and on for a few years now. The computer was a real pride in his lab at this point. It wasn't strong enough to survive a heavy-magic environment, but it was enough for the home and the ambient magic in the lab at the moment. A crystal like the ones BEN and Smile had was embedded above the hard drive protecting it.

Finally, the most important, a small centrifuge had been set up in the corner beginning to separate blood samples he had discreetly collected over the last week at Hogwarts for analysis. The blood and genetics were at the core of so many questions. What made a magical person different from a normal person? What was the correlation between magical people? How did genetics factor in?

Did 'pureblood' flesh taste different from 'muggleborn' flesh?

He chuckled morbidly at his own silent joke. Still, it _would_ be a beneficial test that out, he supposed. Somebody of-age, of course; the meat's more savory with age. A little vegetable oil… some leeks or maybe sweet onion slices… a little garlic and minced thyme butter…

He shook his head and discretely wiped the tiny bit of black saliva that escaped the corner of his mouth. Was it really his fault if he got hungry when he was surrounded by the sweet-smelling aroma of candy?

For now, he had other delicious work to attend to.

He walked over to the shelf containing a large number of chocolate frog cartons. He picked one out at random and weighed it; package and all. Then he set the carton inside a sterile, glass enclosure with two openings for his gloved hands to reach in. The second he opened the cardboard box, the little confection almost hopped out, but he managed to catch it in time.

He popped the edible frog in a sterilized pitri dish and held down the top cap. He put a small bit of tape to secure it before removing it from the sterile box and walking over to a microwave he'd brought down specifically for today. He put the pitri dish with the frog inside the appliance and put on some goggles.

He set the timer for 3 minutes and watched as the cabin lit up and the pitri dish spun on the plate.

The frog didn't react at all to being irradiated at first. Then, about 1 minute 20 seconds into the timer, the frog began croaking at higher and higher pitches. Finally, at 0:47 on the timer, the frog exploded in a brown mess within the pitri dish. EJ turned of the microwave timer and scribbled down his recordings.

He took out the pitri dish and looked at it carefully before setting it down and pulling out a black tape recorder from his lab coat pocket. "Experiment 057: Chocolate Frog vs Microwave; as expected. The confection blew up after approximately 2 minutes and 15 seconds, much as you'd expect from a normal chocolate bar or, as I'd imagine, a real frog.

"The product 'Chocolate Frog' has the same fat, carbohydrate, and cacao content as any other milk chocolate its size and weight. It's my guess that the 'magic' used in the procedure relies mainly on the frog being intact. Past experiments have shown that once any part of the frog is damaged, it ceases movement. Further analysis shows that the 'magic' wavelength dissipates the moment any part of the exterior chocolate shell, or 'skin' is ruptured. Be it a tiny hole from a syringe or just ripping the sucker in half, the result was the same.

"Now beginning tests on the product 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans'. How did they get 'every flavor'? What ester compounds are involved in the flavoring process? Is there any toxicity? I've managed to isolate beans I'm fairly certain are the following flavors: vomit, bile, earwax, nasal mucous or 'boogers' as it's commonly called, and liver. Unwitting subject name: Jeffery Woods. End log."

EJ ran out of the room towards the stairs leading upstairs and hollered up them, "Hey Jeff! I want you to try something!... For science!"

* * *

Laughing Jack was currently in a rare state of straight-faced concentration. He had put on a protective white coat and goggles as he mixed and watched various chemicals in multiple beakers and test tubes at his small chemistry station in his room. He put his newest Stink-Bomb-O'Matic on hold for now in light of a new project that had taken his attention.

In front of him were samples of common 'potions ingredients' that he'd bought at Diagon Alley when EJ reported he'd wanted a few more things to study. He went without his 'juggalo' make-up to attract less attention and managed to get a few reagents for his own experiments.

He was currently examining the multiple components necessary for a standard 'Calming Draught'. It was listed as a low-level potion, but given how it seemed a lot like just 'add-this-to-the-stew-pot-about-now' it was a lot less demanding compared to more advanced chemistry where everything was precise and how finicky the chemicals could be.

He was curious about how his candy's acid was amplified that much!

Gold was notorious for being insoluble (meaning practically nothing dissolved it). Alchemists back in the day saw it as the 'perfect compound' partly because of this. Short of an incredibly potent and highly unstable acid nicknamed 'Aqua Regia', nothing would cause a golden goblet to dissolve.

So, by logic, that could mean one of two things; One) The goblet was, in fact, not gold at all and some sort of bronze or brass which actually could dissolve pretty readily. Or Two) Something in the goblet (possibly magical) caused his candy's effects to amplify ridiculously.

He took a scraping of one of the goblets at the tables and confirmed it was pure, solid gold. No traces of silver or any other 'fluff' alloys. So option 1 is out.

He managed to 'juice' a pumpkin (through a lot of trial and error) and took a sample from the carafe at the table when he visited. They both showed up as just fruit juice. That's when he floated the idea past the resident potions master.

* * *

***flashback***

"So, you're in charge of all of the potions around the school?" LJ asked cheerfully. The oily-haired potions master folded his arms in frustration.

"For the last time; Yes!" He snarled. He was in his office, grading the practically illegible summer homework of the second years, when the _only_ person who could possibly match (or even exceed) the Weasley Twins in annoyance waltzed in his room. He lazily took a seat on one of the desks and started casually asking inane questions on potions and their reagents.

After the incident with Ms. Williams, like Hell he would give any more of Mr. Lindermann's wards advice on potion making. Still, he wouldn't go away and not even the threat of owling Mr. Lindermann, himself, would dissuade him from where he was.

So, here he was, snarling at a 17 year old boy in clown make-up lounging on a desk in front of him asking if dragon scales could possibly mix with Hippypunk toes.

If that statement was ever heard by a muggle psychiatrist, he was willing to bet he'd soon find himself on a very strict prescription regimen.

"So, you know if someone, say, potions a drink?" The boy continued.

"Well, _I_ wouldn't know! You'd have to ask the student that drugged the drink in the first place." Snape ground out.

"But I mean a potion that was put in… _everyone's_ drinks."

Snape frowned… could he mean…?

"You mean the First Feast drinks?" He replied. The teen nodded interestedly.

"Yep! Exactly! So, any somethin'-somethin' that goes in them?" He asked, nudging the air with his elbow and an eyebrow waggle.

The Potionsmaster rolled his eyes, "It's not drugged in that sense. Yes, we lace the drinks on the first week with a mild, legal, safe calming draught. It helps new students ease into Hogwarts and feel more relaxed and it helps older students not to panic in sheer anxiety over the next year."

"So, you _do_ drug them?" LJ summarized cautiously.

He stood up from his chair. "Fine, out of technicality, _yes_. But it is both _safe_ and _legal_ with approval from St. Mungo's Hospital Research and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Head of which, I might add, has a niece in Hogwarts this year, so if there were _any_ doubts about that, then I'm sure she would object in an instant."

LJ's face contracted in a look of thought for just a second, before flipping around back to his usual, broad grin. "Well, that answers that. Thanks, Snapey!"

He bounded out of the room before the potions master could even comprehend the name. He closed his eyes to calm himself. It was leagues better than "Snivellous", but "Snapey" was still unpleasant.

He sat back down-

Prrrrphphtphtphphtphpht!

His face glowed red as he stood up abruptly and lifted a deflated, red balloon-like-object from his seat. He heard riotous laughter outside the door and saw a brief flash of black and white rush from behind the door down the hallway.

He angrily set the whoopee cushion on fire before vanishing it and the black smoke that came off of it.

He settled back down to his desk checking for any more unpleasant 'surprises', but it seemed the cushion was the only one. Mid-way through his grading, he was struck by a thought.

He kept his eyes trained on the boy in front of him since he stood up from his seat.

When, then, did he get the opportunity to set a prank up _behind_ him?

* * *

EJ didn't know the Potionsmaster's innermost dialogue, but would guess he'd never figure out how he did it. Heck, Slenderman himself was still wondering how he managed to get that cow on the Mansion's roof and the chickens in everyone's bedrooms that one April Fool's Day.

Like EJ, he had an elaborate maze of glass tubes trying to recreate potionmaking in a modern fashion. So far, it seemed like it was going pretty okay and the specific stirring requirements could be met with a stir-bar magnet while heating a Pyrex two-valve flask with a Bunsen burner worked just as well as a pewter cauldron over a wood fire.

He followed along the vast array as reagent after reagent mixed, melted, reacted, and flowed through the system until a small tapper at the end dripped out a blue-gray potion into a beaker. He collected the sample and compared the beaker visually with a store-bought Calming Draught at the Alley.

He smirked as they were practically indistinguishable. Of course, he planned to have Professor "Snapey" give the official 'OK' to it. He may be practically immortal, but he wasn't stupid enough to try something which imitates magic that he'd slapped together with science.

He collected the end result in a flask and put a stopper at the top, planning to visit the old dungeon bat again for a review.

'Hey! There's a thought! Bats in his desk!' He thought gleefully. Of course, he also weighed the pros and cons of the idea considering he also wanted something out of this guy and pranking him might not go over too well… hmm…

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a few candies. He popped a blue Cyanide-Sensation (TM) in his mouth before picking out two of the green Acidic-Agony (TM) candies as well.

He poured a small sample of both Calming Draughts in separate beakers and added the candies.

He cackled delightedly as the candies dissolved in a cloud of fizzing bubbles and the resulting solution started to etch the glass.

* * *

A lone jogger sprinted through the wooded park late that night… or was it morning? The cold September air chilled his lungs while every breath out created a tiny cloud of fog. His legs were protesting every second of strenuous activity while beads of sweat dripped down his face. The park wasn't lit with electric lights this far out from the main area, so all he had to go by was the moonlight bathing everything in a soft blue-gray.

Any other night, and he would've considered this an excellent workout in a pretty picturesque place.

But tonight?

"_Go to Sleep_."

He wove his body to the side just in time to avoid the gleaming knife that had almost buried itself into his torso. The mutilated teenager wielding it was clearly irritated, though the disturbing smile carved into his face didn't give it away.

The runner started getting back into the rhythm of his sprint, recovering from the awkward dodge, as he heard the footsteps of the killer crunching on the gravel path as he rushed after him. He was a marathon runner, for Pete's sake, how the frick was this kid so fast?!

Through the faint moonlight, he caught the white gravel suddenly dipping to the left. He just had to time it right-

-just right-

-juuuust-

He could hear the psychopath's breathing in his ears-

-he took a sudden, sharp turn on the left-branched path, his feet prepped and primed to take the skidding as he shot off on an almost perfect 90 degree angle. He heard the kid curse as he kept skidding down the pathway, not ready for his prey to escape like that.

Up ahead, he saw a single lamppost in a line of them. That light filled him with hope. There in those lamps was salvation and help. It was the waking to the nightmare.

That light symbolized people, civilization, and (more importantly) police.

He just had to-

*shlk*

* * *

Jeff casually cleaned the bloody knife off on his shirt as he stood panting over the dead body of the late-night jogger. He chuckled morbidly, the adrenaline and endorphin rush subsiding, "GG, man. Good game."

He glanced around, confirming there was no one else in the area what-so-ever, before shaking his head at the corpse. 'Seriously,' he thought to himself, 'these people are practically begging to get mugged or something. It's 3 AM in a public park, that's like… "prime crime time" or something.'

He walked over to a park bench and sat down, pulling out his camera and flipping to the camera option. He snapped a photo of his most recent kill, the flash illuminating the crime scene briefly before returning to the pitch black.

He stared at the screen for a second before nodding; it was a pretty good shot. Definitely one to keep.

This wasn't a 'sanctioned kill' as in a job or anything. It was just some random guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong guy, but he was allowed one or two 'recreational kills' a month. If for nothing else, then they staved off a Rage from building over time. The Council understood (after all, he wasn't the first to be like that) and warranted a couple a month provided he keep it to a minimum and not unnecessarily attract attention for it. Well, as little attention as blatant murder can garner, at least.

He absentmindedly started up a game when he heard a small whimper from the bushes next to him. He glanced over and shrugged, "Sure, knock yourself out."

Smile leapt out of the bush and deftly dragged the corpse in the underbrush to quietly enjoy a meal. Jeff didn't really care. It wasn't like they did anything with the bodies, plus it meant he didn't have to feed Smile as much that day; a win-win.

Except for the runner, but… meh.

After a few minutes of listening to Smile chew, he stood up from the park bench and stretched out his back, "C'mon, Smile, let's head home. 'Kay?"

The dog happily barked and bounded over with a wagging tail and a bloody muzzle. Jeff wiped as much of the gore off as he could before he reattached a leash around its collar and led it towards the Slender-port symbol.

The lights to a lamppost flickered and he felt the sudden hum of a familiar presence.

"Ugh. Look, I'm allowed an off-the-record kill once a month-" He started to argue.

"_That's not why I'm here, Jeffery._" Slender replied, walking into the cone of light from the park lamp. "_I've arranged to meet with the goblins at Gringotts today and I'd appreciate your coming with._"

"Why? Can't you take care of it yourself?" Jeff asked, curious.

"_Yes. However, I received a job for you out in London, so I figured I could bring you to the location and I understand you missed the second excursion to Diagon Alley, so you may have wanted to go again._"

Jeff looked to the side as he considered the offer before sighing, "Fine. Okay, you win. So, are we going now or…?"

A black tentacle snaked out of Slender's back and hovered next to the teen. "Of course…" Jeff muttered. He grabbed on, still holding Smile's leash as they vanished from the crime scene.

* * *

The two figures made their way through the Alley towards the towering, marble bank at the end of the road. A goblin waited by the entrance just behind the guards flanking the entrance. "Ah, you're here," He said in a squeaky voice, "Follow me, just this way."

They were led past the long lines of wizards who glared at them passing by. Rather noticeable whispers circulated around about 'muggle clothing' and how 'muggles' were being serviced before them. A few commented on the dog padding behind them.

They walked behind the counters towards the caverns where they boarded the first cart ride. However, instead of going to the carts, they went deeper into the structure. The ornate, elegant walls became chiseled-out stone fresh from the bedrock of England. Slender noted how deep the bedrock should be relative to how long they'd been walking, but sighed and chalked it up to magic… again. They stopped in front of a set of imposing doors firmly stuck into the craggy rock wall, lit by the flickering torches, and surrounded by spears of rock formations from the cavern.

"Please wait here." The goblin requested before scampering into the room. A set of goblin guards were stationed outside the doors and watched the two humanoids and their canine warily. After a few moments, Slender noted an odd crunching noise and looked down to see Smile gnawing at a severed human arm he pulled from behind a rock formation.

The goblin guards were unnerved to see the guardian's reaction (or lack thereof) at the grisly sight. Instead, the glamoured entity turned to them and calmly asked, "Where did the arm come from?"

"Er, one of our human slaves in the bowels of Gringotts; tax-evaders, petty thieves, forgers, among others typically end up there. Usually bodies are disposed of cleanly, however I suppose the arm… well, missed the bin, so to speak." The guard said, shifting from one foot to another. Usually, he'd get a pretty good laugh later at the discomfort and horror from any witch or wizard who had the rare opportunity to come down here. The silence was unnerving.

They waited for his response.

"Ah."

…

They watched as he turned away and just stared off absentmindedly at the craggy rock surface, occasionally glancing over at the dog's chewing. The boy with him seemed completely at ease with the whole situation and continued fiddling with an odd, black device; frustrated it didn't work. They heard him mumble about 'E-Jay', 'fones', and 'crystals'. None of which made a lick of sense to them.

At length, the small teller goblin reappeared through the door, "You may come in now, sirs." They followed him in and found a mirror of the room they met in just a few weeks ago. Except, in this instance, the large ornate throne at the front was occupied by an imposing goblin wearing an expensive black suit with a gold pin on his lapel.

A small goblin to his side stood and spoke directly to them, "You are in the presence of Director Ragnock; Head of Gringotts Banks and Leader of the Goblin Nation." The goblins around them stood as one and thumped their right hand in a fist over their chest.

Slender observed the respect for this goblin and bowed at the waist, discretely nudging Jeff to do the same, albeit the teenager's was awkward and off-angle from what was proper. He was pleasantly surprised that Smile, despite having gore on his muzzle, also managed a rudimentary bow with his forelegs.

The goblins, in turn, were either shocked or confused (or both) at seeing two humans bow to them. Past experience with Wizards usually resulted in blatantly uninterested or pompous attitudes even when in the presence of the Great Ragnock. Muggleborn parents (on _rare_ occasions where they were permitted in) were usually too terrified to show signs of respect or were appalled at the warrior nature of the goblins (under the belief that goblin culture held on to 'barbaric' customs).

Along the table were about 10 or so goblins, all with pins signifying rank and smartly dressed suits with small militaristic embellishments. Slender and Jeff sat at the farthest end from Ragnock and a small goblin in a less opulent uniform asked if they wanted refreshments. Slender chose tea, naturally. Jeff and Smile were content (plus, Jeff doubted they'd know what Diet Coke was, let alone have some on-hand). The three goblins closest to them passed around some folders and papers and began talking.

For the next few minutes, Jeff fiddled with a rubber band he found in his pocket or keeping Smile entertained. Slender spoke with the same three goblins about the Potter Accounts and the necessary paperwork for it, including statements, past transactions, and his tuition.

All the while, none of the other goblins did anything but stare at them, scrutinizing every movement. Every flick of the pen, every nuance in their speech, every odd pat on Smile's head felt like it was being examined with a fine-toothed comb. The Head Goblin sat at the end with his fingers steeped in front of him.

At last, the last paperwork was filled out with a promise of a masse delivery for him to take back to the mansion of statements, contracts, transcripts, and other documents for him to file through spanning centuries of Potter history.

As soon as the goblins finished their business, they scurried back to their seat and looked back at Ragnock expectantly. The goblin was quiet for a moment before addressing Slender directly.

"You are Mr. Solomon Lindermann, yes? Guardian to one Harry James Potter, unknown age, unknown address, unknown title, unknown occupation?"

Slender repressed a grin and maintained perfect neutrality, "That is correct."

"You are also the keyholder to Vaults 687, Mr. Potter's Trust Vault; Vaults 1047, 1028, 593, all associated with the Potter Family; and lastly Vault 1318. Correct?"

"As I understand it that is also correct." Slender nodded.

Ragnock gave a firm nod before motioning for a courier goblin at his side to bring a file of several papers and began leafing through them in extended silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire in the torches and the occasional tongue-to-nose lick of Smile. After a second, he set them back down and looked straight at Slenderman.

"Mr. Lindermann, we want to discuss Vault 1318." He said with no words wasted. "Vault 1318 was established back when Gringotts Bank was first being built almost 1000 years ago. It was built by my predecessors on the command of the client with the stipulations such as location, material of the doors, and security measures provided by the individual themselves.

"However, since completion, we have been completely unable to bypass security to the vault. While the interest systems are automatically entered to the vault, we have detected physical items deposited as well without our knowledge. As you can understand, this vault is of some relevance to us and we would appreciate cooperation to understand how you accessed it."

"I will try, but I need to warn you that my… 'friend', the one who lent us this vault, would prefer secrecy." Slender replied.

The Goblin Leader frowned and leaned over to converse quietly with some nearby goblins before sitting up straight. "We will decide as the conversation continues whether or not certain personal information is required."

Slender sighed, "Very well. Please, ask away."

"How did you come to access this vault in the first place?" He asked sternly.

"Our friend who owns the vault heard that I had decided to enter this world. He had the vault from previous 'investments' and gave us the key. He asked for nothing in return, but given his nature, I don't consider it necessarily dangerous though I am still cautious." He admitted.

"So, the client to one of the largest, most profitable vaults in the Wizarding bank just _gives_ you the key?" A goblin with a golden axe lapel pin at the side questioned with a sneer.

"Yes."

"Preposterous!" Blustered another goblin at the other side. Many others agreed and began arguing.

The Goblin Leader banged a fist against the side of his throne, evidently magically amplified as the cannon-like blast echoed in the chamber, silencing the others. "I will have order in this room!" He bellowed. He then pointed to Slender, "I'm not sure what to make of your story, but I don't believe you are lying. It would be far easier to just say you have a family claim on the vault, but instead you concoct this story. Either you are a fool or are telling the truth and I highly doubt someone who could bewilder the _entire_ Gringotts Department of Contracts is a fool."

Slender didn't reply other than a small nod. The Goblin leader began speaking again, "Now, your 'friend' has loaned you this vault. I don't suppose we could get a name?"

"No." The entity replied evenly, but then he glanced to the side and seemed to reconsider. "Well…"

The goblins leaned inward at the sudden shift in attitude. Ragnock was especially intrigued, "Are you saying you may be able to provide more information?"

They noticed the boy who accompanied him glance up and seemed to stare at his guardian, waiting for his decision. After a moment of silence, the taller man folded his hands in front of him and addressed the general room, "How good is secrecy here?"

"The secrecy of this room is absolute!" Ragnock thundered definitively, "All goblins present have taken an oath to never divulge what is said outside these walls to anyone who does not have a similar oath. Penalty of the oath being broken is immediate death. Even then, any other form of breach in this conduct is an immediate death penalty by the Goblin Nation."

Slenderman looked each goblin directly in the eye as it swept across the room. Normally, a goblin would feel threatened by this as it would be considered a non-verbal challenge, however as each made contact with the black pools, they felt a chill. It felt like he was challenging their integrity in a way that said he would not hesitate to try to kill them if they lied… and despite being multiple warriors in the presence of only one so-called 'muggle', they felt like they would lose.

"I'm offering this on the basis that perhaps things will go… smoother if only those present knew the situation revolving around it. I have paperwork from my superiors I have to deal with and spending years on this paperwork is not ideal."

Ragnock nodded, "If we find your information helpful or interesting we will do everything in our power to help in the flow of paperwork."

Slender smirked, "Oh, I guarantee you will find it _very_ interesting." He straightened quietly, "And, more importantly, if I divulge this information, I want _none_ of the 'magicals' to know. That includes anyone from Hogwarts, the Ministry, or even any humans or magical employed by your bank. I don't even want this information being passed to the beggar wizard we passed in the alley on the way here. Is that understood?"

"You have my word that everything revealed in this room shall remain solely in this room." Ragnock promised, putting his right fist over his heart. From the other goblins' incredulous expressions, Slender would guess that was quite the significant action.

"Very well," He acquiesced. "Ask your questions, please."

"Who owns Vault 1318?" Ragnock asked clearly.

Slender smirked in response and stared them down before replying lowly, "My associate is named… **_Zalgo_**."

The air shuddered and for a second, it seemed as though the perpetual, stable light from the Ever-Fire lamps flickered and dimmed slightly. The goblins present felt a sudden shadow over their minds as they heard the name spoken aloud. Many would swear they heard the distinct sound of brief whispering, wailing, and laughing from behind the walls themselves. However, they knew this was impossible given there was nothing beyond the wall save for miles and miles of English bedrock and granite.

Ragnock's eye twitched, but showed no other sign of being shaken. Slender had to commend his resolve, "I see. That hardly seems like a _human_ name, yes?"

"Correct."

"So, if I may ask, what is he or she?" Ragnock continued.

"There isn't really a 'set' sex to it, but mostly I gather the impression it's a 'he'. As for 'what' he is, I've never really asked, but it's common thought he's some classification of what mortals call 'demons'."

The goblins sucked in a breath at the term, inciting some whispers and low murmurs between them until Ragnock banged his fist on the throne, "Enough!" He turned a stony eye back to Slender, "Mr. Lindermann, please understand that Demons have been studied by the Ministry of Magic, but no actual demonic entities have ever been found or summoned."

"Well, they are rather difficult to contact. They're like cats in that regard, they come if they want, they won't if they don't, and they have the irritating tendency to jump right in front of your face when you least want them." Slender supplied.

"Regardless, Mr. Lindermann, we want to know how you came to acquire this key?" The Goblin Leader pressed.

Slender nodded, "Zalgo is a being that requires near-constant entertainment. He enjoys watching humanity most of all. He sees my involvement with Mr. Potter as his newest 'show', so to speak. He knew we would need funding for our endeavors to take part in and examine the Wizarding World and saw this as an opportunity for more direct involvement. Whether this is to taunt us, to upset us, or perhaps something like purchasing a ticket to see a show, I don't know. However, I can confidently deal with his antics."

The goblin's eyes tightened, "And just what 'antics' should we expect?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid." He shrugged, "If he does 'act up', we can't distinguish it from any other ordinary accident or natural disaster unless we know what to look for. Regardless, I'll be cautious in my dealings with him."

The goblins muttered nervously, several beginning to question several ailments that befell them recently. From losing an important client to Dragon Pox to the stubbed toe earlier that morning to a cave-in that killed several miner goblins a few weeks ago. Ragnock waited for the murmurs to quiet before he continued.

"Is it possible to contact this…" He waved his hands, trying to gather the name on his tongue.

Slender politely interrupted. "My wards refer to him has 'Z' if it is any easier. I know many find the name unsettling to speak aloud to say the least."

Ragnock nodded in mild gratefulness, "Very well, is it possible to contact this 'Z'?"

"No. That I know of, there is no surefire way to contact or summon any of his kind."

"Then how did you come into contact with 'Z' in the first place," The goblin asked curiously.

Slender allowed a small, wry smile, "That's a tricky question. He's not my friend, more of a colleague in my line of work. Perhaps something more like that one person at work whom you work with, but not voluntarily. The chatterbox, the backstabber, the overly-perky overly-cocky smarmy weasels. I suppose he falls into all of those categories."

"What work do you do?" Ragnock asked, now intrigued.

Slender paused to think the question over, but Jeff murmured under his breath. A goblin next to him managed to catch the snippet.

"Mergers and Acquisitions?" He misspoke. Jeff barked out a laugh and Smile spun in a circle around him, mirroring his energy.

Jeff got a hold of himself and wiped away an imaginary tear before responding, "Sure, why not. It worked for Christian Bale."

The goblins around him were completely confused, but Slender gave an eye roll and bemused head-shake. He addressed the Goblin Leader in all seriousness, "I'd prefer not to talk about my work just yet."

The goblin nodded, "Very well. Moving on, do you know any other 'demons'?"

"One or two," Slender shrugged noncommittally, "but I don't wish to give their names. They are partial to their own business." The goblins around them broke out in more incredulous mutterings and Ragnock slammed his fist like a gavel a few times to regain quiet.

Ragnock held the back of his hand to his mouth in contemplation, eyes not leaving Slender. Finally, he removed his hand and spoke calmly but with an undertone of anxiety, "I must ask, but with these powerful… allies, what are your intentions for the Wizarding World."

The goblins all turned as one to hear Slender's response. Slender had steepled his fingers, but merely chuckled and replied, "At the moment, all I want is for my wards to safely experience Hogwarts and learn to control their gifts."

The goblins let out a collective breath. The power of one demon was said to be monstrous and could wreak havoc the likes of which Wizarding Britain had never seen. For a 'mortal' to know _multiple_ could pose a serious threat to everything they knew.

Ragnock took a sip of water from the golden goblin goblet beside him before studying Slender again, eyes darting as he reviewed the interviews. After a moment he frowned. "Mr. Lindermann, you never really answered the question of how you came to know this 'Z'."

Slender nodded, "I suppose I didn't."

Ragnock pressed on, "Was it through a muggle ritual? A Faustian deal? Dark magic, perhaps?"

"No, no, nothing that drastic," Slender waved his hand, dismissing the idea, "I met him simply from living. I can't say much about our first meeting as I can't really recall much of it and even then he changes form every few centuries to keep himself entertained."

The goblin leader processed all of this information presented to him before leaning forward, eyes steeled, "One last question." Slender nodded for him to continue, "This… Z-Zalgo (he shuddered involuntarily) is not human in the slightest and yet you've referenced him as though you've known him for some time."

He leaned forward in the deathly silence, "My question is: if he isn't human… are you?"

Slender remained quiet for a long time before folding his hands in his lap and looking directly into the goblin king's eyes, "Would it make a difference?"

The goblin's reply was even and controlled, "It may help us sympathize with your situation if we knew more of the truth. We could help streamline paperwork and ensure swift action whenever you see fit. We are honor-and-life-bound to uphold secrets."

…

…

A goblin's pen rolled off.

Clack!

Clack.

clack.

…

…

Slender slowly got up and stared directly at Jeff, who was just staring at his guardian wide-eyed. Curiously, the dog seemed to be aware of the situation and showed equal amazement, concern, and interest.

At length, Slender nodded.

The boy grinned-

-and his mouth split.

The mouth seemed to widen straight past his cheeks and gouged its way up to his jawbone. His skin took on an unnaturally ashen pale hue while his hair turned coal black and lengthened to a little beyond his shoulders.

The goblin guards instinctively pointed their spears directly at them, but a barked order from Ragnock in the harsh, guttural tones of Gobbledygook silenced any protests and made the spears go away.

The dog shook its body like it was trying to shake off water and the white and dark gray blurred into an ominous blood red and black. The creature's lips pulled back, revealing a set of sharpened human-like teeth smiling back.

The tall man simply straightened himself… and kept straightening.

The goblins watched the face and hair meld into a white, marble-smooth head with no features whatsoever as the body of the 'man' stretched until it was almost eight feet tall with barely proportional arms and legs.

The creature that called itself 'Mr. Lindermann' stretched its arms at its sides and rolled its neck. A myriad of black tentacles splayed out of his back and twisted and curled like worms behind him.

_Ah, much better_.

The goblins shook as the disembodied voice echoed in their minds. Several stared at the tentacles being manipulated to pick up several forms, a pen, and the cup of tea.

Their fearless king Ragnock stared at the entity evenly, not betraying his surprise, horror, or unease.

The entity's tentacle raised the cup to his "mouth" and despite no orifice forming, they distinctly heard a small 'sip' sound of liquid being drunk. The creature 'looked' back up at them, smirking invisibly.

_Now then, where were we?_

* * *

**AN: The quote 'Mergers and Acquisitions' comes from American Psycho from a misheard phrase "Murders and Executions". It worked for Christian Bale. :)**

**For some reason I see Slender talking a lot more formally. It may be the suit, but it just feels more appropriate. Same with McGonagall. I can't imagine Maggie Smith (her actress) saying "thanks" off-handedly. It would probably be more "thank you". Even if it's subtle, it doesn't fit the character. Same with "I can't believe you did that!" would probably become "What in Merlin's name were you thinking, Mr. Potter?! I cannot believe you would do such a thing!"**

**Lastly, my brother and I sometimes talk back and forth about nothing much, but we think interesting things. For instance, there's a spelling of the name Stephen or Stefan that is absolutely ludicrous, but viable by the English language.**

**"Hello, my name is (Stefan). That's p-s as in 'psychic', p-t as in 'pterodactyl', e as in 'egg', p-h as in 'pharmacy', a as in 'apple', and p-n as in 'pneumonia'.**

**Psptephapn.**

**Behold; English in all of its confoundedness.**

* * *

**Open to a rather charming Victorian-style study. The walls are a rich red/black Victorian floral pattern with dark wood detailing above and below. A few gas lamps flicker in between tall bookcases holding volumes and trinkets. A fireplace is at the head of the room, crackling quietly and illuminating where the gas lamps are too dim.**

**A desk sits in the middle of the room, a few papers neatly strewn on the surface. A typewriter sits in the corner, filled already with a fresh, clean page.**

**Against the wall is a large pipe organ… you know what? You get the idea. Sort-of Sherlock Holmes meets Haunted Mansion.**

**A figure stands in front of a window, snapping their fingers as the image changes; a sunny beach, a desolate mountain, a quiet forest, a large city, a desert. Each time, they mumble to themselves.**

**"No… no… maybe … definitely not… no…"**

**Finally, they settle on a dark, permanently-autumn forest at night, turning away from the window towards… you.**

**"Hello again. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As you can see, I pulled myself together since the upper AN. All of the other ANs are actually pre-crash ANs, so this was made after the fact.**

**"I wanted to give one last announcement that you may be upset to hear.**

**"I've decided I may be going on a hiatus for all of my fics until late November 2016, when I can get back home and have a local tech guy take a look at my old computer to see if I can get my old files off. I'll check the files I managed to save, but I'm still upset I lost a lot of ideas I saved on that one computer (and even angrier with myself that I hadn't thought to back-up those files recently).**

**"Until then, I'll try to work with what I have, but realize that with everything that's been happening this semester… things are going to be difficult."**

**Crow stands quietly and gives small head-bow to the audience. "I appreciate your support. It means much more than you realize. And I appreciate your patience as well.**

**"Until next time…"**

**Crow looks up…**

**"Happy Halloween."**

**The Crow smiles…**


	30. This Changes Everything

**AN: Hello, faithful readers.**

**I want to apologize for my absence. I know I said I'd come off of hiatus in November and haven't posted since, but to summarize the past few months;**

**Sometimes Life's a Bitch.**

**That is all.**

* * *

**AN: I did some more research and discovered a flaw in my logic. I knew Phonographs/Gramophones used wax cylinders, but I know that wax cylinders tend to melt and distort the sound and even then, can only play-back about 10 times before the recording distorts permanently.**

**Because of that, I opted to try to have brass cylinders instead (it's more permanent and would've been readily available at the time), but that didn't exist in normal society. So, I figured Slender would just have some kind of connections with an inventor in the Underrealm who had an invention that would "read" the wax cylinder while simultaneously transferring the grooves into a hot, soft brass cylinder for later playback. Just a bit of imaginative leeway, not too important.**

* * *

The light notes of a piano drifted around the enormous room, occasionally popping and hissing irregularly. Three figures were together at the head of the room, a stack of roughly organized papers around them.

One figure opted to sit on the marble steps winding upwards. Another dragged an old chair from the side of the room towards the center as well as an end table to hold his papers next to the small device playing music. The last was perfectly fine lying on his stomach against the cold marble floors, with his papers in a scattered mess around him.

For a while, the scratching of quills against parchment was the only thing heard aside from the music, then it finally wound to the conclusion. The figure in the chair leaned towards the phonograph and pulled off the needle from the brass cylinder and opened the box to the array of cylinders there.

"Ugh!" The figure on the floor moaned, "Isn't there anything more modern? Metallica, Black-Eyed Peas, heck, even that freaking Beaver kid if we've got it."

The figure in the chair browsed through the collections before selecting one with a grin, "Well, this one is from the 20th century-"

"Play it!" The floor figure pleaded, desperate to escape _another_ Sonata, Sonatina, Symphony, or whatever-other-s-words-there-are-for-music from another long-dead guy in a powdered wig.

The figure hid his smirk as he put the cylinder in the slot and the needle found the groove. A slow, lethargic, almost whiny brass section started playing out the horn accompanied by a high, female voice.

"_Shiiine on, Shine on Harvest Moon… for me and my gaaaal_…"

Nick's interest fell faster than a lead brick. He turned to Adrian in a deadpan. "And just what is that?"

"Music from the 20th century, like I said." Adrian replied, struggling to hold back a slightly wise-cracking grin. He turned over the little information card from the cylinder and read, "This was recorded in the 30s, but the song was first published back in 1908."

Nick rolled his eyes and fell back on the floor as the voice continued. "_I ain't had no lovin' since Ap-i-ril, Jan-uary, June, or July_."

"I meant something after the 50s at least. , the Eagles, heck we're in Britain so the Beatles, too."

Harry grinned at the figure flopped on the floor, "I think by then, they'd either had vinyl records or digital recordings."

Nick groaned, and looked up at Adrian, "What's the most recent thing he's got?"

The amnesiac glanced through the collection, "Looks like he's got something from the 40's, aside from that he's got nothing."

"Nnnnnngggggg, Sleeeennnndy." The bug-enthusiast whined. "I can't wait until EJ gets a boombox or something working. Then it's Greenday, AC/DC, and sweet, sweet Adele all day long."

Harry just shook his head as the last of the ancient recording wound to a close and Adrian automatically put in another Chopin Nocturne, getting another resigned moan from Nick.

They were working in the abandoned remains of a ballroom in a forgotten corner of the castle, surprisingly well-hidden. The room had floral decorations in an elegant, swirling baroque style, with a marble floor and pale blue walls, faded with years of disinterest and stained glass windows letting in some of the evening light, flecks of refracted color drifting above the inlaid floor patterns.

The walls were decorated mostly with curving candle sconces (the candles themselves long-since reduced to wax stalactites) and occasionally a shield or crossed swords with a simple coat of arms. Though, there were a lot of subtle fleur de li patterns interspersed. Tarnished silver mirrors took up any loose space, and made the room seem even bigger.

The ceiling had a faded scene of Heavenly clouds and cherubs in the excessively baroque romantic style. A single massive chandelier still hung above the ballroom, it's twin having crashed decades ago, cracking the floor around it on impact and leaving a twisted wreck of silver and gold surrounded by a spray of crystal shards.

At the end of the boarded-up large entrance door was an enormous, grand organ embedded in the walls. The marble stair steps Harry was sitting on led up to the keyboard at the top, hidden behind a column with the connecting pipes artistically incorporated into the wall and alcoves above.

Sally found it on accident, exploring during her 'shift' while avoiding a Prefect's patrol and a few stray ghosts' wanderings. The room's entrance from the outside was covered in old, rotting wooden boards, but curiosity got to her and she pulled off a few before the doors opened and she saw the interior (and subsequently danced around the "Beauty and the Beast Ballroom", as she put it, for a good portion of her shift).

Adrian did some subtle digging into the history of the place and it turned out it was a gift from the French Ministry to Britain to "promote greater ties" in the mid-to-late 1700s (and also a last-ditch effort by a few upper-class French nobility to try to gain increasingly reluctant British allies due to increasing tensions that would eventually lead to the French Revolution). The British Ministry allowed it to be built in Hogwarts and after it was completed held a large ball with all of the higher-ups and notable characters in their respective fields rubbing elbows.

Then, of course, the Ministry never acknowledged it again and it fell into complete disrepair as even the rest of Hogwarts completely forgot its existence (and as a result, the upper class of France was largely on its own to the mercy of the National Razor).

Harry picked up the next sheet of paper from the pile and glanced over it, "Sounds like Professor Flitwick is going easy on us for now. He just wants us to write about our ambitions or goals."

The other two pulled out the assignment to follow along. The resident corpse grinned, "Well, my goal is 'enjoy the afterlife for all it's worth', but I can't exactly write that down." He tapped the quill to his chin for a second, "How about; graduate, get a job, meet a girl, die."

"Well, that fulfils a minimum standard, I guess." Adrian conceded dryly, trying to contain a snicker. Harry was outright giggling uncontrollably. They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, the scratching sound of quills writing out their essays accompanying (another) classical piece.

After a few moments, Nick put aside the (minimalistically short, but effectively passable) essay and pulled another sheet from the stack. He groaned, "Wow, McGonagall doesn't waste time. Already a 'foot-and-a-half of parchment' on something. Is that even a standard unit of essay writing?"

"It does offer the loophole of just writing really, _really_ big," Harry conceded, tapping a quill to his essay parchment.

The corpse grinned, "Yeah, just write in big, 6-inch-tall letters 'What I learned in Transfiguration Class is Blankity Blankity Blank'."

Nick hefted over the textbook and mused, "You know, I never really thought magic would have so much studying."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Really? The massive shelves of books in practically every single image of a wizard wasn't a dead giveaway? Plus those huge tomes they carry around everywhere?"

Nick shrugged, "Well, I know that, but it didn't really transition over. I thought there were more magical methods to it. Like they'd have ridiculous memory or just 'absorb' spells like in video games. Then, you just cast Magic Missile every other turn until someone beats the game while you're still at the Tavern getting drunk and seeing how high you roll on Luck with the bar-wenches."

Adrian looked up, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, my parents moved for a temp-job and I got roped into D&amp;D with some guys I met at the High School there. Needless to say, they _never_ invited me back. On the plus side, I got to eat my weight in Cheetos and Mountain Dew. 'Twas glorious!" He said in his best 'He-Man' voice echoing in the ballroom.

Harry grinned while Adrian just rolled his eyes and moved on to the next paper. He huffed tiredly, "It seems Snape doesn't pull punches either. Two sheets of parchment on the properties of Mandrake extract."

Harry grimaced, "He seems like really bad news. Did you see how he singled me out?"

The two undead boys nodded. "Maybe it's not personal or anything," Nick suggested, "Maybe he just… doesn't like famous people or something? One of those 'you have not truly _earned_ your fame' kind of dickwads."

"Don't let them hear you say things like that," Harry warned, "I heard from the upper years that Professors have a spell to wash your mouth out with suds if you curse." The corpse grumbled more colorful vocabulary about his thoughts on that.

"Still," Adrian redirected, "What should we do about him? Poison?"

Harry was about to retort, but paused a second. Eventually, though, he shook his head, "No, we can't murder professors in broad daylight. He's not on the Job List and, even then, I bet he has one of those 'buzzard' things from class to clear out poisons."

"It's 'bezoar' (the next homework asks about it) and, even then, we can get… creative," The wraith suggested, barbed wires unfurling from their 'tattoo' forms and poising around him, jagged metal tips swaying ominously like charmed snakes.

Nick nonverbally agreed as a few more-lethal species of insects and arachnids started crawling out from his hair, collar, and sleeves clicking their mandibles eagerly.

For the briefest moment, Harry considered this… and sighed, "No, Slendy would know."

That immediately shut down the plan and they, grudgingly, returned to the potionmaster's essay assignment. They worked like this in silence, mostly focusing on work while sometimes fantasizing about getting away with increasingly-elaborate murder plots. Eventually, the sunlight started fading from the windows and they decided to move back towards their respective dormitories.

A few students were ambling around that evening, but just before they were about to separate to their respective dormitories a voice rang out in the hallways.

"Mr. Potter, there you are."

They turned to see Professor McGonagall walking briskly up to them, looking both relieved and frustrated. "Mr. Potter, I've been looking all afternoon for you. Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office. I am to escort you there."

"I see," Harry replied neutrally, "Alright. Bye guys." The two undead boys nodded and said their goodbyes as the shortest of the trio walked away with the stern witch.

They rounded a corner as the two shared a silent glance, nodded once, and followed behind.

* * *

Jeff grumbled under his breath as he swiped a mop across the kitchen tiles. He screwed up on his last mission and as punishment he got sent to clean-up duty. Totally unfair. How was he supposed to guess they had CCTVs in their home?

Either way, Slendy had to get involved and destroy the video footage before the police could snoop around. It still didn't get him out of this chore, though.

He squeegeed the mop in the bucket next to him, waiting a until the last few drops dripped out. He picked up the bucket and shuffled to the kitchen sink, careful not to spill on the floors he'd just mopped. He hefted the container high enough to pour the watery, red visceral soup into the drain.

He set the bucket down and looked back at what was left.

Some blood spatters on the walls. Some guy blew another guy's brains out in the hallway with a shotgun. Crap, that's wallpaper too (stuff's impossible to get blood out of). He'd need a scraper for the brain bits. The floors still had residual blood leftover on them that he needed one more mop-over before it'd be good enough. The guy on the kitchen table had his guts ripped open, so the tablecloth would need to be burned or buried.

And that was just the immediate kitchen.

He sighed, tiredly, "This blows."

"Hey!" Toby walked in, carrying a plastic bin full of guts and gore. "Think we can keep this until Halloween?" He lifted up a length of bloody intestine, still dripping.

"Nah, it'd rot by then," Jeff replied, "And even if we stored it in the fridge Seedeater, Rake, or EJ would eat it before then."

Toby shrugged and hefted the bag to a swirling, dark purple-red vortex of maliciousness and evil in the corner of the room. Every now and then, eerie whispers or wails would be heard from beyond it. He threw it in with a 'whoosh', watching it be consumed and disappear into the Void.

Underneath it was a small stone, occasionally sending mini-lightning streaks up into the portal, the mauve rune glowing ominously. Drilled into the side of the rock was a small, bronze sign. "_Thank you for using an approved Incinerator Portal (design and copyright courtesy of the Aperture Corporation). Useful for all crime disposal needs. The Council would like to thank you for your efficiency and service. [Reminder; do not place anything or anyone valuable into the portal. In the event of accidental exposure to or entrance into the Sulfury Void, please contact the number on the back. Side Effects include headache, nausea, dizziness, disorientation, severe burns, loss of contact with reality, loss of soul, demonic possession, and, in some rare instances, death. Do not store above 75 F. Wash with similar colors. Warranty only valid within 3 weeks of purchase]."_

"How's the fumigation going" Jeff asked.

"Still think it'd be better with fire," Toby remarked casually, but he pointed to a small, flexible metal hose snaked into a hole in the wall. Some noxious-looking green gas was diffusing in the area around it. Within minutes of the gas being active, some rats, cockroaches, and a pigeon roosting in the eves had dropped dead and were picked up by the visceral janitors.

The main infestation, though, were these small black and white beetles.

They were a common-enough pest. They were about the size of a fully-grown cockroach, but fatter and wider with had a black and white shell with a sketchy black eye pattern. Though underneath the hard wings was an actual human-sized eyeball swiveling in the insect's abdomen, essentially making up the entire creature's form.

Those little guys had this weird hive-mind psychic link thing going for them. They rarely made up hives any fewer than a couple dozen and tended to stick around places that were pretty much abandoned. They would poke around at night or during darker hours to generate a psychic 'pulse' that would create an intense feeling of being watched and pheromones released only increased levels of anxiety, anger, frustration, depression, and paranoia.

Normally, most animals that wandered into their territory would succumb to the brain damage and hurt themselves or each other. But problems started when humans got involved. The bugs weren't dangerous per se, as in they weren't venomous nor would they swarm a person and consume them like the freaky scarabs in the Mummy. But humans got… _creative_ when one or all of them go into a psychic-bug-induced psychotic breakdown. Case in point, the guy with his guts hanging out on the kitchen table and the exploded head in the hallway.

So, from the report they got, a bunch of stupid college kids go into some abandoned house in the countryside rumored to be haunted. That in itself should be a major clue of "Don't f*cking do it". College kids and a creepy-ass house in the middle of nowhere is a cliché but inevitable start to a horror movie franchise that goes on way too long and gets worse with every roman numeral slash mark added to the title.

After the would-be college graduates got in, everything went to Hell in a handbasket.

They probably felt like they were being watched and eventually started hallucinating, making them doubt reality and each other. This, in turn, leads to one of them either going somewhere private and doing the "sideways tango" with the promiscuous cheerleader type and getting killed mid-way in an I-totally-saw-that-coming death or freaks out early and goes completely postal on them.

This one seemed an unpleasant mix of both.

But the last guy standing seemed like he eventually took his own life after the fact in some horrible movie-plot-twist where "I was the murderer all along!". He admitted that maybe he'd been watching too many horror movies on Movie Night at the manor.

In the end, the bugs come out of the woodwork to enjoy their meal once everything's quieted down. A few tears and bites could be seen on a few corpses, but the beetles scattered when they came in. After that, and a tube of toxic chemicals later, they were the make-shift visceral cleanup crews for the UnderRealm.

He sighed, willing to bet that Slender requested this particularly _lovely_ job just because of his and Toby's latest screw-up. Though, Toby didn't mind the gross nitty-gritty stuff as much (mostly because he couldn't feel the nauseatingly squishy sensations).

"Oh, hey! Check this out!" His inner rambling monologue was interrupted by Toby. The unfeeling axe murderer pulled out a clear plastic sports water bottle. Inside were a half dozen of the beetles they'd been sent to kill, their eye-organs staring eerily at him from their position on the walls of the bottle.

"Uh, why?" Jeff asked, shifting uncomfortably back and forth as the unblinking eyeballs followed.

"For Nick," Toby explained, "He's always going on about bugs, so I figured maybe he'd make something out of these guys." He clipped the loop of the bottle to his belt with a carabiner.

Jeff nodded and just squeegeed the mop once more before his mind lit up with an idea. He rushed over to the portal stone and picked it up, putting it on the floor by the countertop. A few adjustments and the portal shifted 90 degrees so it was horizontal and more like a mini galaxy of evil instead of an upright, vertical portal.

He went to the cadaver on the table and picked up the guy's head.

"Toby, watch this!" He walked away from the gaping vortex and bent his knees, arms lining up the shot on the other side of the room. "NFL rookie Jeffery Woods lines up the three-pointer. He takes the shot!"

He threw the "ball".

It sails through the air and hits the backboard (leaving a bloody smear on the wall).

It hits the rim (another smear on the countertop).

It rolls around the net (oh, that's definitely smearing all over the place).

Swish!

It fell neatly into the inferno portal.

"And the crowd goes wild! Haaaaa! Haaaa!" He made heavy, breathy 'haaa's and held his arms up, being praised by an imaginary stadium of people all around him.

"Oh, yeah?"

The pale killer turned to see Toby walk over wearing a gray/green plaid flat cap and a caddy kit from one of the closets slung over his shoulder. Instead of a ball, he pulled out a non-descript squishy organ and put it on the floor (either a very mushy pancreas or a small snippet of large intestine). He grabbed the driver club from the bag and took up position.

"He lines up the shot. Toby Rogers could be the next Tiger Woods… or Happy Gilmore."

He swivels his hips to imitate the "golfing pros" and moves the driver back and forth a few times before throwing caution to the wind and whipping the driver over his shoulder (nearly taking out the kitchen lamp and Jeffery's head in the process).

"FORE!"

*FWAP!*

*SMASH!*

…

Toby and Jeff stared dumbly at the broken window behind the portal in silence. Toby's hands still holding onto a phantom golf driver. The real one slipped out and was currently embedded in the wall behind him.

"Huh, I expected it to go splat, to be honest." Toby muttered.

…

"You know you need to-"

"Yeah, I know, I'll go get it," Toby mumbled, heading off in the direction of the flying meat.

Jeff shrugged and chose to return to the job. He hefted the headless corpse, careful not to spill out the intestines on the nicely-cleaned floors (courtesy of yours truly) and tossed it into the portal.

* * *

Eyeless Jack paced the length of the lab as he waited for the latest and arguably most important experiment to near completion.

He was in a different room than the day before. The main lab still resembled a candy factory explosion, but he decided he needed more space and fewer contamination risks for this one, so he moved shop to a vacant lab room, now the unofficial "biology lab". The basement was spacious enough and the Council approved a lot of equipment they applied for.

He heard the quiet *ding* of an egg timer on the counter and immediately changed direction towards a small device whirring quietly on the table, a tray of glass tubes spinning rapidly under a protective plastic cover. He pressed a button on the centrifuge and the spinning tray slowed to a stop before he popped the lid open and lifted out the carefully marked tubes.

The solution inside wasn't remarkable, just slightly cloudy white, but what was more interesting was the messy bundle of white fibers collected at the bottom. Holding it up to the light, he couldn't help but feel a little excited. After a long process of refining, replicating, and isolating, he had the final product in these innocent, scraggly strands.

Deoxyribonucleic acid.

DNA.

Any basic science book would tell you it's the "building blocks of life", but there was so much more to it than that. It was the basis of life, perfected over eons of Nature experimenting and changing with an ever-shifting earth. Even "junk" DNA people easily dismissed for years actually had purpose.

He lifted the tubes and confirmed the strands were isolated in each sample. UnderRealm protocol for new species included genetic comparison testing. While Magicals weren't technically "new" or "non-human", he still covered all the bases. Samples of several "Magical" specimens compared between known species; human, semi-human, non-human, and a few species that didn't really fall into any category.

EJ carried the tray of tubes towards a large machine in the corner. It was roughly the size of a copier/fax machine way back in the 80s or 90s with a built-in keyboard set up below a full screen connected directly to the machine. The bulky machine was commissioned by several top researchers in the UnderRealm and Slender had managed to convince the Council to have one on-site.

He entered a few commands into the terminal before a sterile tray ejected itself from the side with a hiss. The tray had an array of empty slots that each centrifugation tube fit neatly into. When the last sample was confirmed, he pressed a button and the tray retracted back into the machine. A green light indicated the process was ready to go.

The machine ticked rapidly as specially designed needles and probes unraveled the DNA strands and processed them into a long sequence of billions of base pairs. This machine worked on a level that would have the original Human Genome researchers pointing and shouting 'witchcraft!'.

Now, the human genome is made of four "base pairs" labeled A, C, G, and T and literally billions of them are strung together in one enormous molecule generally called DNA. It would take months, if not years, to go through all of the individual lines of DNA sequencing, though there's a 'saving grace' so to speak. 99.9% of all Human DNA is similar to each other, though that 0.1% still represents a couple million odd base pairs that weren't the same, it narrowed the search down significantly.

The machine isolated major differences in the DNA samples, ignoring random base pair mutations that are bound to happen between samples just on the principle of 'why not?' and random genetic damage.

Ten minutes of quiet ticking and all of the genome samples were successfully sequenced, the results displayed in the monitor above. His eye sockets glanced over the information presented before sending it to the printer. He took the decently-sized stack of documents towards a small table with a cup of coffee and some preliminary test results.

At a glance, he could tell some key facts he'd already suspected early on. The "Pureblood" samples showed pretty disturbing chromosomal homogeneity and weak genetic variability. That would be expected from a child produced from two people with too similar DNA (like first cousins or [he shuddered] "closer" relations).

Reaching over, he grabbed some documents on the cells themselves prior to DNA extraction. The cells had poor recovery response to toxins, contaminants, or damage. The blood itself showed a weak immune response. He suspected whatever health benefits "magic" had helped negate these issues, otherwise he really couldn't imagine these people living past maybe their late 30s, maybe 40s, with how inbred they'd become.

In contrast, the "muggleborn/halfblood" samples had pretty normal chromosomal heterogeneity with stronger, healthier cells and stronger-than-average immune responses, too.

He shook his head at just how much damage these "purebloods" were doing to themselves. Heck, at the rate this data showed, the 'pureblood' kids Harry went with today would be lucky if their grandchildren weren't completely sterile at this rate.

He flipped through the files again, comparing samples to one another and comparing that to the generic human samples obtained, but so far these Magicals, even 'purebloods', were practically just the same as most 'muggles'. Standard mutations for Caucasian peoples further North. Normal genetic variations in normal spots, but nothing particularly linking them. A muggleborn wizard from Yorkshire had different DNA to the pureblood witch from India, but there had to be some defining link between them.

What's more, it wasn't necessarily obvious.

See, the tricky thing about DNA is that literally _one_ key base pair changing out of billions in early cell development is shared throughout the entire body and could mean the difference between amino acid X and amino acid Y. This could create a whole different protein, which was the difference between someone born with functioning enzymes and someone with a significantly lower life expectancy (or, interestingly, someone who just gets gassy and uncomfortable digesting lactose).

He continued scanning the results, the device sifting out insignificant shifts and highlighting particular sequences.

Specifically, one sequence in particular.

The sequence ATGGCTGGAATATGT repeated at least 77 times on Chromosome 13 (and, no, the numerology wasn't lost on him) was present _only_ in those classified as Magicals. The mundane human control group sequence completely skipped it.

Reading more into the data from other experiments (specifically, on Harry, being the only Magical with a functioning body in the house), this sequence was pivotal to odd protein expression. Proteins that were abnormally organized and interacted with other proteins in unusual ways, from normal immune response to neural networks to ocular perception.

This couldn't be coincidence. He'd look into it later.

But for now, he had to be thorough with the remaining results. He flipped the page and read the general readout data.

**Non-human; sub-class Y species (i.e. Rake, Wendigo, Seedeater, etc.);** No comparison.

**Non-human; sub-class G species (i.e. Gremlin, Lurker, Widemouth, etc.);** No comparison.

**Non-human; sub-class D species (i.e. Slorcher, Glucklog, etc.);** No comparison.

**Semi-human; sub-class X (Slenderman);** No comparison.

**Semi-human; sub-class A-E (i.e. Previous Human exposed to unknown contaminant);** Minimal comparison.

**?; sub-class "Laughing Jack";** No comparison.

**Human; sub-class Aware Human; blind sample test;**

Wait.

What?

He re-read the last part of the report.

'Notable comparison.'

The 'Aware Human' experiment was blind, meaning that even he didn't know whose sample he picked up in the freezer. It was just a random sample from a human or former-human in the Mansion or with frequent dealings with the UnderRealm, hence they were 'aware' humans.

He flipped the pages until he found the data sheet he was looking for. His eye sockets skimmed over the lines of code printed out until he found it.

Right there.

"No way." He murmured.

The eyeless doctor rushed towards the original lab station and pulled out the original blood sample bag used. The name and personal information of the bag was covered over with by tape. He peeled it off carefully, to expose the owner.

"Oh my God."

* * *

At the very edge of Hogwarts' wards, a temporal distortion was masked by a small cloud of wispy, black smoke. The cloud rapidly dissipated into nothing, revealing Slenderman holding onto Sally's hand. He wasted no time and immediately marched the trek up to the castle entrance.

He had initially planned to visit to allow Sally to take over for Laughing Jack and Smile handling patrols. He wanted to keep this up for as long as the Headmaster would allow it to ensure some level of reconnaissance. But now, he had just been delivered an urgent missive from Adrian's messenger bird to come to Hogwarts, forcing his hand on the matter and moving the change-out schedules a little early. It really put a damper on the good mood he'd carried over from the Goblins yesterday.

They got through the entrance hall without raising any suspicion and walked the convoluted hallways and passages of Hogwarts until they happened to cross paths with Minerva McGonagall heading the opposite way with Harry in tow.

"Mr. Lindermann," She said, surprised, "I'm sorry, we hadn't anticipated you."

"I see," Slender replied casually, "Well, I had come along by chance to visit Landon Jack, my ward, and ran into my other two wards on route. They told me Harry was being escorted to the Headmaster. I felt it would be appropriate to supervise or, at the very least, be informed." The casualness was off-set by a slight accusatory tone at the end.

McGonagall seemed to pick up on it, "Well, Professor Dumbledore was rather sudden with this appointment and I felt you may be rather busy. Also, we don't typically need parental assistance for staff-to-student meetings unless for disciplinary reasons."

"I see," The entity repeated himself, before having his glamour 'smiling' politely, "Well, regardless, I'm here now, so I may just tag along. Sally, too, if that's alright."

The Transfiguration Mistress nodded, but warily glanced at the young girl before leading the "man", the girl, and the boy towards a stone gargoyle statue in the middle of the hallway.

"Blood pops." She intoned clearly. The gargoyle nodded and leapt to the side, exposing a long, winding stairwell leading up the tower. They climbed up and ended at a solid, wood door at the very top of the stairwell.

They walked into the office space and were greeted by Professors Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick. Harry and Sally immediately started glancing around the room, intrigued by the many devices (currently non-operational or slightly broken) and portraits of Headmasters glancing curiously back at them. Slenderman, on the other hand, was more focused on the other humans in the room.

Professor Flitwick seemed, for lack of a better word, pissed. His posture and jaw suggested tension or aggravation or indignity, or perhaps all three simultaneously. He managed a stiff nod of acknowledgement to Slender, but didn't speak.

Professor Sprout was obviously upset over Flitwick's anger and seemed to be trying to find a way to act as the mediator. She sent a kind smile towards the group, before glancing at the other two Professors in the room.

Professor Snape was sneering as usual, secluding himself in the darker regions of the office, but when he saw Harry _and_ Sally together, he seemed to barely refrain from outright snarling.

In response, Sally flashed in a quick smile before wandering around a bit, noting the many empty spaces on the shelves between the still and broken toys. Slender kept a close eye on her and the bat-like human, anticipating a story soon enough.

Harry walked quietly towards a seat that McGonagall had conjured just in front of the large desk in the center of the room. The guardian could tell the boy was putting on his most stoic face for the occasion, but beneath the façade, he could sense roiling anticipation, anxiety, and a small amount of relief once Slender arrived. The glamoured entity put a comforting hand on his shoulder, before looking up to address the others.

"Where is Dumbledore?"

McGonagall cast a quick glance over the room, "Yes, I was wondering that myself."

"He wasn't here when we arrived," Pomona interjected, "I suspect he's just running around. You know how he is." She remarked off-handedly, as though it excused everything at once.

She began talking amiably with Slender about Nick being in her house and what she's noticed. While the two were talking, Sally cocked her head at a portrait of an old headmaster with a rather large nose and silly-looking hat, who sneered back at her. She gasped when he left his frame, making her anxious if she'd offended him somehow.

Professor Sprout finished her small talk when Professor Snape approached the tall guardian. "Mr. Lindermann, I would like to discuss something with you." Slender raised an eyebrow, but let him continue, "You see, earlier last week, your ward, Ms. Williams, saw fit to ignore my _explicit_ instructions and concoct a rather dangerously acidic potion of her own design with no supervision. And afterwards, decided it would be _funny_ to try to _drown me_ in the vile mix!" He spat the last sentence out angrily. "If it weren't for my fast actions vanishing the drink, I believe she would have killed me!"

The guardian could see the man's point and sent a glare at the young girl, who shuffled over dejectedly. He addressed the Potions Master again, "I apologize sincerely on my ward's behalf; however I want my ward _to do so as well_." He enunciated the end with another glare.

She crossed her arms petulantly and ground out, "I'm _sorry_."

"That's it?!"

The dungeon-dweller snarled furiously at the "man's" reaction to attempted murder by his ward while Slender sent a disapproving wavelength of Sigma around him, the undead girl picking it up more than the others. "Sarah Williams, we will discuss this later and I will decide on a punishment, but right now this behavior has me curious as to what exactly makes you believe he deserves that kind of treatment."

"He was playing mean games with Harry," She mumbled angrily, not looking her guardian in the 'eyes'.

The taller man turned to the wizard in black. "A 'pop quiz', of sorts," Snape replied smoothly, "If the _Golden Boy_ of Hogwarts is anything like he's to live up to, I'd expect him to answer simple questions." He sneered.

Slender sensed the vengeful, slightly petulant, anger from his other ward still not moving from the chair, but it was almost dwarfed by the man practically radiating disgruntled bitterness.

Sally, meanwhile, had wandered away towards an enormous bird with vibrant red, orange, and gold plumage. She 'ooh'ed quietly as she slowly approached its perch. The bird seemed wary of her, but was noticeably on the side of his perch furthest from Slender, himself. The girl held up her hand a few inches away from it, inviting it to let her stroke its head.

"Is that… bird safe?" Slender asked the others present.

Sprout smiled kindly, "Of course. Fawkes if a Phoenix. They're the noblest and kindest birds you'll ever find. They're attracted towards Light Wizards, like Dumbledore, and generally are a symbol of the Light."

Slender hummed noncommittally, but his eyes never left the bird, watching it with distrust.

The bird, Fawkes, warbled quietly and hesitantly leaned in to let her pet the plumage on his neck. Sally smiled, "Wow, Mr. Lindermann! You should feel him. He's so warm and soft!"

Seeing that she meant Slenderman, Fawkes screeched and skittered further away from him to the furthest spot on its perch. He took a step back, and the bird calmed somewhat. The sudden reaction wasn't unnoticed by the inhabitants of the room.

Including an old man camouflaged in the corner by disillusionment.

He chose that moment to make himself known, walking out of the shadows and releasing the spell simultaneously. Clearing his throat, he chuckled as those present jumped slightly and spun to face him. "I apologize for startling you. I've just arrived from a rather abrupt, but private, Floo call in the other room."

He walked around the room and sat in the ornate chair behind his desk, setting both hands in front of him, fingers entwined. Minerva gasped, "Albus! Your hand!"

He ruefully lifted his hand, which sported a cloth bandage with slight traces of red seeped through. "Alas, I had a rather unfortunate mishap with a particularly irritable owl." He smiled kindly, trying to convey that he didn't blame the 'owl'.

"But Madam Pomfrey-"

"Was rather busy this afternoon and it was shortly before I received the Floo call earlier. I just conjured a bandage in the meantime. It's nothing serious, Minerva."

In truth, he _had_ been to the owlery, but not for the owl. He learned that Mr. Lindermann had allowed one of his wards, Mr. Thresher, the use of one of the peculiar black birds. He'd attempted to stun the creature and contain it for a brief examination to learn just _what _it was and then apply a high-quality Tracking charm. However, the bird deftly dodged the spellwork and apparated out of the way for any wide-range spells. He'd knocked many poor owls unconscious, but none of them were the snowy owl Hagrid purchased (it fled moments before the first spell) or the black bird.

Finally, the bird appeared right before him, slashed his hand with its sharp beak and apparated back to the top-most rafter in the tower. Its head was lowered, giving the impression of raised 'shoulders' and its eyes only further gave an ominous impression of 'daring' him to try again. He decided to stop after his wand refused to _episky_ the wound closed. Either the bird was some Dark variety that he could not oust without admitting this attempt or somehow it prevented magic from working on inflicted wounds.

He rushed back to the office with a hastily conjured bandage to clot the wound on the way. He had just beat the other Professors and managed to wordlessly disillusion himself to observe the happenings.

Still, he returned to the matter at hand. "Good evening everyone, I trust you all enjoyed your weekend. Please, please, take a seat." He conjured several chairs for everyone, Solomon Lindermann taking the one closest to Harry and Ms. Williams sitting not far either.

He smiled at the tall guardian, "While unexpected, thank you for coming, Mr. Lindermann."

"I'd like to apologize for whatever havoc Harry has done to warrant a meeting with the Headmaster within one week of enrollment." The 'man' flashed a cold smile.

Dumbledore chuckled in response, "No, nothing quite so drastic." He leaned in, smiling kindly, "You see, Harry, here, has been summoned to try a house re-sort."

Slender sensed the sudden bristling from the diminutive Charms professor. Clearly, the man was outraged this was even taking place. Dumbledore continued, "It's not uncommon for a student to feel a bit dissatisfied or even unwelcome in their House their first week. Usually it's simply just a difficult time period for them to adjust to their new surroundings. However, sometimes their experience with the house may cause them to change their minds.

"You see, the sorting hat deals with mentalities only until the time of the sorting. It's entirely possible for a young man who exhibits mentalities borderline Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, but at the time of the Sorting he had tendencies and mentalities more towards Hufflepuff. Then, after spending time among their new housemates, they may favor characteristics towards another house and they, themselves, may request a re-sort with the permission of their current Head of House and parent or guardian consent. No offense to your House, Pomona. It was merely an example."

The kindly Herbology Professor smiled back to the twinkly-eyed Headmaster, but it was a little more forced than earlier. "Likewise, it is also an option for a Professor to request a re-sort if he or she feels the student would flourish in a different environment."

'_Ah,_' Slender thought silently, '_Now to the crux of the matter_.'

"That said, I believe young Harry, here, may find the option of a re-sort helpful as he develops through life."

"Still," Slender countered coolly, "I would think it would take longer than just one week to decide something like this."

"Yes, but I believe Harry isn't achieving his full potential in Ravenclaw and a re-sort would do some good."

Slender brushed off the powerful waves of anger emanating from Flitwick, "Perhaps it's still too-"

"Oh, no, no," Dumbledore raised his hand and shook his head, unknowingly cutting off _the_ Slenderman. "I know your dealings with magical society are limited, so you cannot grasp the implications of this decision. I'm certain this will be beneficial to Harry." His eyes tinkled brightly as he projected an aura of 'I-know-better-than-you' to practically everyone in the room, but especially Slender.

Slender, in the meantime, was struggling.

On one hand, he could maintain secrecy, allow his wards to experience magic, allow his other wards to entertain their new-found fascination in this world, and possibly bring Balance to an unstable society.

On the other hand, there were only five wizards (and witches) present. And he could easily impale them in a heartbeat before any of them could draw their flimsy wands.

Then again, this world could fall into further Unbalance and Chaos if he destroyed the "Head of All that is Good".

And again, he could easily snap the neck of the impudent, conniving, Machiavellian old codger in front of him that _dared_ to interrupt him so rudely.

'_Oh, dear,_' He thought, '_That meeting with the Goblins left me with far too much bloodlust_.' No blood was shed, of course, but he admittedly enjoyed them pissing themselves in fear (literally, for a couple of them) at his revealed form. Some old pleasures were difficult to kick.

He sighed quietly. It was hardly an influential impact. Simply a different dormitory area and different Housemates. Perhaps a different schedule, too, but that would be worked out by Administration regardless. Plus, it may end up better to spread at least one ward in 3 of the 4 Houses to keep tabs.

"Very well," He acquiesced. He felt Harry stiffen beside him and sent a slight calming frequency to keep him from objecting. He'd explain later.

"Excellent!" The man cried out jovially. He walked to the shelves behind him and pulled down a ratty, old hat from one of the upper shelves before returning. He set the hat in front of Harry before sitting back down, "Now, Harry, if you would be so kind."

Harry reached out for the raggedy headwear, swearing for a second that a particular wrinkle raised giving the impression of an inquiring eyebrow above two divot "eyes". However, that thought left as he placed it on his head.

Like before, the world around him went silent and dark.

'_Hello, Mr. Potter, I will admit this isn't surprising, but I hadn't anticipated seeing you so soon_.'

'Yeah, well, I didn't either.'

He felt the familiar shuffling in his head as the Hat evaluated his choices and skimmed the last week. '_Hmm. Not much to go off of in only a week's time, though I am glad somebody found that ballroom. It was quite the conversation starter when it was being built. Shame it's fallen in such disrepair_.'

The hat continued its silent analysis as Harry fidgeted a little, '_Hmmm, aaahhh, perhaps…_ SLYTHERIN!"

Outside the confines of the Hat, the faculty seemed to freeze up.

McGonagall seemed beside herself. The son of James Potter and Lily Evans in Slytherin?! Pomona, ever the fair-play badger, was surprised by the result but accepting none-the-less.

Snape seemed to have developed a large vein in his forehead that was on the verge of an aneurism.

Flitwick was nonplussed with a hint of satisfaction seeing the Headmaster's reaction.

The Headmaster, meanwhile, seemed almost like he was about to finally keel over after a century-and-a-half of living. His face was whiter than his beard and his eyes glassed over in horror as his mind spun to try to catch up with itself. Every now and then, tiny whimper-like noises came from his open mouth, trying to form words.

He was just about to intervene when a new sound grew louder.

"Hehehheehe Hahahah HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!" The Sorting Hat gave a wheezy cackle out of its mouth-tear. "Oh, Merlin in Avalon! Y-your _faces_, ahaaaaahahahaha! I think I just split a side… _literally_! AAAAAhhahahahahaha!"

It took almost a full minute for the scrap of fabric to get ahold of itself, but it still curved that tear into a grin. Dumbledore finally gathered his wits enough to say, "Allistair, what is the meaning of this?"

"Simple, Dumbledore, just a little revenge for doubting my judgement so quickly." The hat replied mischievously, "Now, on to the real sorting. Who knows… it might actually be Slytherin."

The "face" retreated back into the fabric before the faculty could sputter a reply, leaving them far more anxious than before.

'_What was all of that?_'

'_Nothing, nothing, Mr. Potter, just a bit of entertainment and vindictiveness on my part. It gets dreadfully boring on that shelf all year and I find myself rather insulted that they force a re-sort so early in the term. Now, let's continue, shall we?_'

'_Hmmm. Ah, yes. I stand by my earlier judgement. You're loyal, and you would do well with Mr. Brahms by your side, but I feel the Hufflepuffs might not take your temperament and rather dubious morals well. On the other hand, Slytherin would find itself without most of its student body rather soon if you were to be alone with them for so long. You're brave enough for Gryffindor, a little reckless, and with the Quest, of course, but your mindset is far too gray for their liking. You'd clash almost as much as with Slytherin, I'm afraid._

_'However, Ravenclaw is out of the question. The Headmaster saw fit to that. 'A well-meaning recommendation' my left-side-brim _mustard stain!_ That old man has too many fingers in too many pies for my liking._

_'But, I must make a decision on the most fitting House, Mr. Potter'_

_'What does this all amount to? Why is Dumbledore going through all of this trouble?'_ Harry pushed.

_'You see, practically everyone of importance in Magical Britain came through these halls, studied in these classrooms, graduated in this school, and, most importantly, were all Sorted. The initial Sorting was just to provide a sense of competitiveness in students that were given more attention for their talents by the original Founders; Godric with his combat and defense course, Rowena and her Charms courses, Salazar's potions and politics, and Helga with her healing and herbology. You must also understand the Founders were friends/rivals themselves, always pushing each other towards a greater accomplishment, so they were competitive between each other as well._

_'However, over time, this Sorting and its original meaning has become corrupted into a hierarchy of society. Everyone in power right now had their fathers and their father's fathers' fates decided by their House and whom they associated themselves with. Instead of a sense of family, it became a clique or fraternity. Few friends outside of your House causes a lot of rifts between people in complex society._

_'Where you go influences who you meet, who you talk with, and how you are received by society. Everyone knows you're in Ravenclaw (The Headmaster left that morning's paper in my field of view), so it shifts their perception of you. Everyone expects Gryffindor, even now. The 'Boy-Who-Lived', the Beacon of Hope in the darkest time that ended the reign of the Darkest Wizard of the last Century._

_'And the stereotypes of these houses will carry with you. Gryffindors are always the Light, the good, the bold, the Knights of the story; rescuing the damsel and saving the day. Hence, why everyone expected you there._

_'Ravenclaws are knowledgeable but typically 'nerds', as you kids say these days, and rather arrogant to boot. Hufflepuffs are "Duffers" by most, the 'spares' that are unimportant, no offense to Mr. Brahms. And finally, Slytherins are "Dark Wizards in the Making", the back-stabbers, the Death Eaters, and the snakes._

_'Right, I got that impression while we were just hanging around,'_ Harry nodded.

_'Exactly, so now do you see how this needs some deliberation?_' Allistair the Hat acknowledged. '_Tell your Guardian as soon as you can. This information will be important, whether he knows it or not. Now, let me hear what you think.'_

Harry considered the options, _'Personally, I like Ravenclaw just fine, but I suppose that's off the table. Hufflepuff would probably put everyone through a loop again, which is always fun. But I don't think I could survive Slytherin… or rather _they_ wouldn't survive _me_.'_

_'So…?'_

_'Yep.'_

_'Then I wish you luck, Mr. Potter. And patience. The Creator knows you'll need it.'_

_'Hey… wait, Slender always says the Cre-'_

The hat chuckled, _'Secrets for another time, perhaps, Mr. Potter. _GRYFFINDOR!"

Light blinded him for a second as the hat was removed. Around him, the professors were relaxing from signs of high tension and anxiety and applauding. He supposed the conversation with the hat was rather long and probably gave plenty of nail-biting as it took its time. McGonagall seemed the most relieved of the four, as though him being in Gryffindor suddenly righted the Universe.

The close second being Snape, who probably was moderately less acerbic because he was not in his house.

Flitwick was obviously pushing down his anger, with Professor Sprout by his side bending down a bit to pat him reassuringly on the shoulder. The anger faded when the diminutive professor noticed Harry saw him and instead he gave a sad smile and encouraging nod.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was a mix of smug, assured, and had a certain glint to his eye-twinkle that clashed with the 'grandfather image'.

Harry's clothes shifted and the blue and bronze accents changed to red and gold with the Ravenclaw Eagle becoming an upright Lion. Harry set the hat back on the ornate desk and started walking towards the exit with Slender and Sally close behind when the Hat spoke again.

"If it's any consolation, Mr. Potter. You get to wear red and black."

Harry grinned and thanked the hat before resuming his current course. Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick followed them out. Snape immediately took off towards the dungeons, muttering about how he wasted time when he had a very important potion put on stasis.

McGonagall was smiling and was a few steps ahead en route to the Gryffindor Tower, expecting him to follow. He hesitated and turned to the other two professors there, specifically Flitwick, "Professor, I just wanted to say… Ravenclaw was extremely enjoyable while I was in it and I really enjoyed having you as Head of House."

Flitwick's eyes lightened considerably and he smiled, "Thank you Mr. Potter. You will be missed, of course, but I am glad you were a Raven, even if only temporarily. And please, even if I'm no longer your Head, my door is always open."

Harry nodded gratefully before following the Scottish Professor down the hallway.

Slender, meanwhile, observed the reactions of those present. Out of all of them, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout seemed like very good influences in the school with a larger degree of autonomy to Dumbledore. Snape seemed disgruntled to be here, but almost… tethered, most likely by Dumbledore's hand. McGonagall was an excellent teacher, though he questioned her capability to maintain impartiality among Houses as Deputy Headmistress and have time for the emotional commitments as Head of House. Plus, she was firmly in Dumbledore's camp, so he had to be wary of her.

He watched his ward begin walking with the Professor and followed. As they turned the corner, he was suddenly aware of two ripples of lifeforms around them that weren't obvious. Opening his senses, he sent out a quick pulse that returned with signatures matching Nikolaus and Adrian.

He 'saw' through the pulse that Nikolaus had used his many insectoid companions to cling like a spider to a darkened, secluded corner. Adrian was apparently using his barbed wires to support himself against the wall on the opposite side, still largely controlled by subconscious will, but a vast improvement.

He mentally congratulated their stealth and gave discreet nods in their directions.

Slender grinned internally as he sensed their life energy showing 'surprise' and a sort-of-unique sense of 'aw-sh*t-he-found-us'. He was very familiar with that unique feeling because targets who hid from him on "jobs" usually blazed with that emotion just before he… took care of them.

They neared the portrait of the Fat Lady and McGonagall spoke clearly, "Caput Draconis" before the painting opened to reveal a hidden hole into a large room.

"Wait up! Hey!"

The three turned to see Nick and Adrian both running down the hallways, for all intents and purposes looking like they ran a distance to get there, despite following them the entire way. Nick managed to look concerned as he looked between Harry and the portrait, "So, what did Dumbledore want from you? What's going on? Is he in trouble, Professor?"

"Not at all, Mr. Brahms." McGonagall replied. "Mr. Potter was offered a private re-sorting in Professor Dumbledore's office and the verdict ruled that he be moved to Gryffindor." She turned to look directly at Harry, "Now, your possessions will be moved from Ravenclaw to your new dormitory. I will personally escort you to the room, but for now I'll leave you to speak to your frie- family." She corrected quickly before walking into the common room.

"So does this mean-" Nick began.

Slender raised a small aura of Sigma to quiet them before speaking, "I believe we only have time for goodbyes and, even then, I'd imagine privacy is difficult in this part of the castle." He subtly glanced at the portraits surrounding them that immediately looked away from them and feigned ignorance of eavesdropping.

The wards nodded before the three Hogwarts students turned to one another. Nick grinned, "So, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and now Gryffindor. We almost covered all the bases."

Harry gave a wry smile, "Well, at least we'll have something to talk about whenever we meet up."

"As often as possible," Adrian replied, slightly smirking, "Can't escape us that easily."

Harry turned towards the still-open hole in the portrait before turning to Slender, "Oh, Sir? The Hat told me to tell you a bit more about the Housing system and how it matters."

The being nodded, "Perhaps later, or send a letter, we are a bit pressed for time."

The shortest wizard turned to the other two, "Whelp, I guess this is goodbye, for now." He shrugged.

Adrian looked a bit thoughtful, "I guess I will miss having someone with a brain cell of common sense to talk to in that tower."

"Well, Ay, you have to consider the benefits," Harry supplied, "For instance, I won't have sunlight waking me up every morning and I can sleep in."

For a second, the undead spirit's eyes glazed over at the thought of sleeping in past sunrise. Going to bed late and waking up later in the morning. Getting a few more hours of glorious… restful… sleep…

He paused, "I'm tempted, but I feel like there's a catch that I'm forgetti-"

"Hiya Harry!"

The group was startled by the sudden appearance of the youngest Weasley brother in the portrait-door-frame, beaming at Harry.

Adrian's face morphed into a smirk, "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."

"I heard about the re-sort. For _real_ this time! McGonagall's been boasting about it to the Prefects and everyone's talking about it!" He said eagerly.

"Bye, Harry!" The undead students waved as they walked away. Harry looked back at them, then up at his guardian's impassive eyebrow raise and his sister's muffled snickers.

No help there.

"Traitors!" He called out mockingly, making Weasley falter for a second in his ramblings. Harry used that second to clamor into the portrait-hole with a quick wave and goodbye to Slendy and Sally.

Unfortunately, he forgot Ron Weasley knew the password, too. He couldn't escape as he continued yammering about chess, quidditch, and something about chubby cannons. Harry slipped by him, only to find several other broad-grinned Gryffindors excitedly talking over one another.

He started shouldering his way through the swarming crowd, grimacing in discomfort as they kept talking, asking questions, and demanding answers.

"Mr. Potter." He looked up and saw the officious-looking older Weasley brother with his nose upturned, like he was the self-appointed ambassador to a high-ranking official.

He stuck his hand out, "My name is Percy Weasley, fifth-year Gryffindor Prefect. I'm to escort you to your new dormitories."

Harry nodded, awkwardly half-shaking. The result being his arm limply flopped around by the older boy's grip. The younger stalked after him up some stairs to an old wooden door. The room inside was a large circular space with a cast-iron stove heater in the very center protected by an iron guard around it that one boy was using to dry his coat. The room was divvied up into five parts corresponding to five four-poster beds with heavy, velvet drapes and five, wooden desks. He noted his trunk and materials were already moved in front of the bed closest to the window. He also noted the bed was right next to a bed with a bright orange flag reading "CC".

"You'll find your belongings are already moved." Percy informed him, pointing to the obvious bed.

"Almost like you all expected me to come here." Harry muttered loud enough for him to hear.

"Well, you _are_ Harry Potter." Percy replied casually, "But it was actually moved after your sorting, not pre-emptively."

"How?"

"Magic, of course."

"Of course," Harry scoffed under his breath.

The older boy left Harry to walk around and check his belongings. A quick search revealed a spooked BRVR glaring dangerously at everything around him and relaxing when he saw Harry's face. The Pokemon hopped up on the bed and into his lap once Harry sat down.

"Hey, BRVR, something the matter?" The cat-like mouse purred quietly, "They transport you, too?" More purring. "I'm guessing it scared you?"

BRVR settled on the pillow, officially 'claiming' a spot on the bed as his own as Harry settled in next to him.

"Well, boy, I suppose this will be our new home." He mumbled to himself.

He sighed and leaned into his pillow as the ignored the footsteps approaching.

He barely saw the other boys enter the dormitory before he closed the curtains around the four-poster bed. He heard them shuffling awkwardly outside of them and mumbling about disturbing him before finally wandering away to 'give him some time'.

He blew out a frustrated gust of air.

"This is gunna be a looong seven years."

* * *

**AN: The cleanup scene was largely inspired by the video game Viscera Cleanup Detail.**

**Huge shout-out to whoever gets the easter egg in this chapter. I'll reveal it next update, but I'd be seriously impressed if they figured it out beforehand.**

**Just a quick thing; the re-sort has been thought out for a while now and my Beta agreed it would be good for plot progression. So, this was not a spontaneous decision, don't worry.**

**1/6/2017 Oh, and I made some subtle changes to earlier chapters. Nothing's changed content-wise, just some awkward dialogue fixed.**

* * *

**AN: Well, to those still curious about the upper AN, I'll explain a bit more. I had completed the chapter late November and planned to release it, but I went home Thanksgiving Break and let my Beta (aka my sister) read it and give feedback. We both agreed it was _not_ up to par, so I had to take a step back and rework a lot of it during Final Exam/Project Month and with my parents pressuring me to apply for Jobs for after Graduation this spring.**

**Then, in-between the disaster called "Writer's Block" re-surfaced and I had no idea where to go with what I was doing. I only recently found that motivation again and I want to mine this vein of inspiration as long as I can.**

**I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited and helped motivate me towards getting back in the game. I especially wanted to thank Guest User Iheartlife888 who's been reviewing the story so often and helped me put this back on my list way in November and I wish I could have sent a PM back.**

**Again, I'm sorry, I really do feel bad for leaving you all waiting like this. So, I wanted to give you a late Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanzaa/New Year's gift I wrote in-between everything this past month.**

* * *

Short One: The Ultimate OP Harry Potter

Harry Potter hovered over the massive city of New York, lasers shooting out of his eyes with a halo of the seven elements of magic and nature floating around his head, dancing to the whims of his will. His werewolf-vampire-dementor-dragon-naga-Asgardian-Kryptonian blood keeps him invulnerable to the attacks of the wizarding and muggle government below, fearfully attacking with literally anything and everything they had.

He banishes them away with a single swipe of his clawed hand in a brilliant display of wandless magic. The lord rings of his ancestral houses float around him like planets; Potter, Peverell, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Merlin, Pendragon, and several more of lesser importance. The only ring actually on his hand was the One Ring of Sauron that he inherited from his interdimensional ancestor Frodo Potter.

Suddenly, the Universe shifts as planets align, opening a new pathway to the seven gems of creation and the leylines of earth. Statues long-since lost rise from deep within the earth.

He gains another power!

The power of his long-lost ancestor Giygas!

You cannot grasp the true form of Giygas' attack!

The immortal, half-werewolf-vampire-dementor-dragon-naga-Asgardian-Kryptonian, Lord of England, Descendent of Royalty, Inheritor of Atlantis, all-powerful-wizard-with-a-f*ck-ton-of-galleons, actually-canon-Master-of-Death, and the f*cking son of Cthulhu roared to the abyss;

"I AM GOD!"

* * *

Harry woke with a snort.

He took a moment to reorient himself. Still in his room, not a 50-foot-tall… thing. Definitely no Ultimate Power going through his head.

The dream wasn't… _bad _per se, but definitely weird.

A glance to the side revealed the culprit; an empty wrapper for Poprocks, two empty bottles of Coke and Sprite (and no, his stomach didn't explode), an empty wrapper for a King-sized bar of Hershey's chocolate, and the stale crust of a New York Meat Lover's Supreme Pizza slice.

He mentally vowed off of Guys' Night for a while.

He shuffled his way downstairs to see everyone at the table, a few of the guys looking a little worse for wear.

"Ah, Harry, good morning. I was about to call up," Slender greeted.

Harry shrugged, "Sorry, I had the weirdest dream a while ago and it kept me up. I was like… Lord of some place called Hogwarts and my mum was the half-vampire descendent of Merlin or something… I think there was fire and lightning, I can't remember… but t was so weird. And I was the blood-adopted descendent of, like, a million different families for some reason."

"Well, I can't vouch for anything else, but I can guarantee you've only been blood adopted once."

Harry stared dumbly back, "What?"

"Don't you remember? We blood-adopted you when you came here."

Harry ran from his chair towards the bathroom on that floor and looked in the mirror.

His hair was a messy black (thankfully not a shiny, bald dome) but his skin was paper-white. He wore a slimming black suit that seemed more like a physical part of his body than clothing.

His back erupted in hundreds of tiny, black tentacles.

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

* * *

Harry woke with a snort.

"What. The actual. F-"

**END**

* * *

Short 2: Eyeless Jack's College Degree

Jeff and Eyeless Jack sat around the breakfast table alone, when Jeff suddenly looked up at him, "Hey, I just thought of something."

"Hm?"

"You're good with biology; I get that, kidneys and ripping stuff out of people is your "thing". But you know enough about genetics to analyze DNA from new species; enough about chemistry to break down jelly beans and find the _literal_ 'magic ingredient'; enough about physics to do that whole magic-wavelength thingy; enough about mechanics to build your own machines; enough about coding to program some of those machines yourself; _and_ you're a cook."

"Your point being?" EJ replied.

"What the f*ck kind of Major did you go for?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes!"

The lights in the kitchen suddenly shut off, leaving the room in complete darkness. "Hey! What the Hell!?" Jeff shouted.

Then, the darkness was pierced by a single spotlight on… EJ.

In seconds, he'd changed into a formal tuxedo tailcoat with a crisp, white undershirt. He leaned on a slick, black cane and had one hand on a shiny, black top hat.

Jeff was too stunned to move.

Then EJ started to sing.

"_Well… when… I…_

_First went out into the big blue world,_

_My mom would always saaaay,_

_'Son you gotta keep your head up and your mind aware_

_'cause you'll see how it all ends up one daaaay'."_

Jeff peered in the darkness, but couldn't make out any of the 40-piece orchestra playing just outside the spotlight.

_So, I thought about it hard every night and day_

_The biggest question of aaaaaalll;_

_In this short and all-too-terrible life of mine-"_ He knelt on one knee.

_"What is my purpose on this great, mud-baaaaallll._" His voice softened to a whisper of hanging silence before exploding back in song.

"_Then it hit me and I knew what I was on this earth to do_

_My purpose, my meaning, my dreeeaaam._

_Was to be up on the stage_

_With lights and songs and babes_

_This is who I wanted to beeee._"

The blackness exploded with light and blinded Jeff with a fully-lit stairstep stage complete with 20 gorgeous women in close-fitting costumes and fishnet leggings with tasteful, but not tacky, sequin and feather adornments dancing on each step.

"_My Major was Musical Theater, yes, Musical Theater_

_I'm straight and I'm a guy, but I love Musical Theater_

_The call of Broadway, the sights of New York_

_The musical numbers, and-of-course;_

_"I love the Cats on their tin roofs,_

_The Musical Man,_

_The Pajama Game,_

_And the Devious Plan_

_"Of Arsenic and Old-Lace_

_And the Lion King_

_Erik the Phantom_

_I love every-thing._

_"So I went off to college to get a music degree_

_And then, I'd go on to debuuuuut_

_But some bitch went on ahead_

_And carved out my eyes instead-"_

He climbed up the staircase to the top of the pedestal of the steps in one, fluid motion.

_"So now here I am_."

"**_Now here he is_**." The women echoed.

_"An eyeless man."_

_"**What a man**"_

"_With a_

_"Degree_

_"In_

_"Musi-cal_

_"THEEEEEEAAATEEEERRRRRR!_"

The stage erupted with hidden pyrotechnics as he leapt off the steps and took a grand-stand slide towards Jeff, who was still sitting, stunned, at the kitchen table.

The women finished with an echoed, "**_And a Minor in Philoso-phyyyyyy_**."

The song ended as EJ sat, still on his knees, slightly huffing after the number.

*brrriiiiing*

"Alright! That's a wrap!"

The stage lit up as people in headsets and clipboards started walking around. Jeff recognized the creepy doll-girl, Shiloh, among them coordinating some of the dancers.

The girls' bright white smiles faded as they started wandering off-stage, muttering about make-up and lunch break.

One went up to Shiloh and asked about paychecks, to which Shiloh told her to check in with "Betty or Darla" before she leaves.

The wall closed up back to its original appearance and EJ stands up off the floor. The "doctor" tore off his suit in one fluid motion before sitting back at the table and spooning up some more cereal.

Then, a woman, still in her stage dress walked in through the "Living Room" door and rushed over to the fridge. She pulled out a labeled tupperwear lunch and sent a mumbled apology to EJ before scurrying back out of the room.

Jeff stared at the wall that had opened up to a full Broadway stage.

Then back to EJ, calmly eating like nothing happened.

Then the torn-of suit still on the floor.

…

"WHAT THE FU-"

**END.**

* * *

**AN: The song was completely made-up from some old timey-sounding musicals, but towards the end I think it devolved into a mix between "This Fantastic Peach" from _James and the Giant Peach_ and a lot of Disney's _Phineas and Ferb_.**

**I dunno. I mostly just rhymed the stuff in, like, 30 minutes.**

**And, like the line suggested, some straight guys love Broadway and some gay guys can't stand it. This guy going for an Actuarial Science Degree is nuts for it (and he's definitely straight, not even bi) while this gay guy in my dormitory building hates it.**


End file.
